


Monsters of Manhattan

by dreaming_up_aces



Series: The Monsters of Manhattan [1]
Category: Mobtale, UT Mob, Undertale, Undertale AU - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5878324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_up_aces/pseuds/dreaming_up_aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk is just a normal human girl. One who lives with a mobster family made completely of monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York City, 1909

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR FEELS WARNING! I am an evil author who is better at thinking up sad things than happy things, you have been warned.
> 
> Also, I will try to get new chapters up every few days, but it can be a bit hard with life & depression. If I'm a bit late, please forgive me.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy :)

"Come out, come out, girly!" The man's voice echoed through the alleyway. Frisk scurried behind an abandoned pallet and peered through the slats. She could see the bloody knife in the murderer's hand, and could see the blood in between the bricks of the alley. Thankfully, she couldn't see the corpses, but she knew that they were there, just out of sight. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

The man's gruff voice stopped, and Frisk could hear heavy breathing making the alleyway sound like a tunnel of wind. Footsteps echoed through the street, and Frisk strained to see who it was. She couldn't tell who the steps belonged to, but the man with the knife seemed rather concerned about it.

"Well, what do we have here?" Frisk heard the shuffle of feet as the man who had just murdered her parents turned. He was radiating fear and anger, but she held her breath. The person who had spoken had a very deep voice, and she could see two pairs of legs. One pair wore dark blue pinstripe trousers, while the other was wearing flashy red trousers. "Some bozo trespassing on our turf," the deep voice said.

"Not even an innocent at that," another voice said. This one was higher, a tenor, and Frisk felt hot tears running down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make as little sound as possible. "And you know what we do with guilty people, don't you?" the high voice said. It was male, but not as deep as the first's bass.

"How about we show him, eh Pap?" the deep voice said again. There was a shuffle of feet from the man who had murdered her parents, and he was very close to Frisk's hiding place behind the pallet.

"Yes, brother." The suited men were brothers, apparently. Frisk felt another tear roll down her cheek. There were a few loud slaps of footsteps as the murderer ran away. "What a terrible person."

"Yeah, too bad he got away... And too bad for these poor people." The men were looking at her parent's bodies. Frisk couldn't help it, she whimpered and curled into a ball.

"What was that?" the higher voice asked.

"I don't know, probably a cat," the lower voice answered, walking out of the alley.

"I'm gonna check it out." A few footsteps came towards her, and Frisk felt the pallet move away from her body. Frisk saw the red pants, and looked up into the man's face.  _The man didn't have a face_. He was a skeleton, a tall skeleton in a red suit and fedora.  _A monster_. Frisk had heard of the monsters, and their mob, but she had never seen one. More tears fell from her eyes, dropping from her chin to her tattered striped shirt.

"What is it, Papyrus?" The blue pants came closer, and then there was another skeleton. He was shorter, and seemed to have much bigger bones than the first. Under the suit, he looked like he was slightly chubby.

"Sans, it seems we have a witness." The red skeleton, Papyrus, picked Frisk up and turned around. She sobbed and turned, the image of her dead parents still in her brain. The blue skeleton, Sans, looked up at her wtih slight confusion.

"Bring it home, Paps."

* * *

Frisk woke up in a little bed, warm under mounds of blankets. She blinked a few times, trying to remember when she had gone with her parents. The bed she was in was a lot like the one at home, and her apartment was always warm. She closed her eyes, trying to remember when she had gone home. But instead of going home, she remembered something different.

Frisk remembered blood, and a knife. She remembered hiding and being really quiet, she remembered her parent's dead bodies. She also remembered skeletons.  _Skeletons_ _?_ At the flood of memories, Frisk started crying again. Sobs wracked her little body, and she felt the blankets shaking with her movements.

"Human?" Frisk recognized the voice, but her sobs grew with the realization that she was most definitely not at home. "I'll be right back, okay?" There were footsteps, but Frisk kept sobbing. She sniffed, smelling something sweet and warm coming from below her. A few minutes later, there were the skeleton's footsteps, and the click of heels.

"Oh, my child, it's okay." The woman's voice was soft, and Frisk felt a pair of hands pick her up. The tears had stopped a bit, but the warm arms surrounding her made them end completely. "It's okay." The woman held Frisk against her chest, looking down at her. She was a bit like a goat, but with a softer face and longer ears. She had white fur all over her face and body, and Frisk noticed that it wasn't a hand, but a paw, holding her up. "I am Toriel. Welcome to the Warehouse, my child."

"Mommy?" Frisk asked, looking around the Warehouse. It was modified into more of a house, and there was a large door at one end of the long hallway. On the other end, there were two large sets of stairs, one going up and one going down. "Daddy?" All around her, there were monsters, but her parents weren't there. "Home?"

"Look, kid." It was the deep voice again. Frisk looked down to see a skeleton. He wasn't wearing his hat or suit jacket anymore, but he still looked dangerous.

"Sans, I don't think you should..." the woman holding Frisk was interrupted by the short skeleton.

"Tori, the kid deserves to know. We don't even know her name," Sans said, holding up his bony hands to Frisk. She shied away, cuddling into Toriel.

"Another time, Sans." The skeleton scoffed, and Toriel gave him a stern look.

"Fine." Sans turned on his heel, grabbing his jacket and a fedora from a coat rack by the door. "I'm going to Grillby's." Without another word, the short blue skeleton was gone.

"Don't worry about him, human. He's just..." The tall skeleton, Papyrus, let his sentence trail off into the air.

"Moody," Toriel finished. "Why don't we get some food into you, my child? You're skin and bones."

"Okay," Frisk said quietly, and Toriel carried her to another part of the warehouse. There was a large wooden table and a kitchen surrounding it. Toriel put Frisk into a chair, one which was much too large for her small body. As Frisk watched, Toriel heated some oatmeal with fire magic. Frisk was fascinated.

She spent the day with Toriel, taking care of small things around the warehouse. There were some random scattered toys, which Frisk played with while Toriel typed some papers on a typewriter. A few monsters passed through the warehouse, but no one bothered them or asked about Frisk.

When night fell, Toriel tucked Frisk in. Underneath the smaller mound of blankets, Frisk was warm and comfortable. She smiled up at Toriel, who smiled back. After tucking her in, Toriel smoothed her purple dress and kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, my child." Toriel's heels clicked out of the room. Frisk lay in the bed, slowly drifting into sleep.

* * *

 Muffled sounds woke Frisk, but she stayed in her bed and listened. It took some straining, but she could hear what the people were saying. It sounded like Sans and Toriel. Muted light came from the doorway, and Frisk could see the silhouettes of the skeleton and the goat monster.

"Sans, keep it down, for Christ's sake. The child is asleep," Toriel said.

"It's still here?" Sans asked, his words slurred and angry.

"Well, yes. It's cold, and she can't be more than four or five. She needs somewhere to sleep."

"Tori, we run a mob, not a goddamn orphanage!" Sans' words were slurring, and louder. Clearly, alcohol had been involved. "This is no place for a kid. There isn't a single reason why we couldn't drop it on the porch of an orphanage or church. Having a kid will just slow us down, and you know it. If she's not more than five, she won't survive with us."

"She won't survive on the streets, either!" Toriel's voice was beginning to match Sans' anger.

"But is living with a mob made of monsters really better for a human kid?" Toriel didn't respond. "Exactly. Get rid of her."

"Sans..." Toriel sounded like she wanted to fight more, but Sans cut her off with a deep, threatening tone. A blue glow joined with the soft yellow of the lamps, and Frisk set her jaw.

"You may be the boss, but I'm right. This kid will make us have a bad time." Heavy footsteps walked away, and the blue glow left the hallway. Frisk heard Toriel sigh, and the click of heels began to fade. Once it was all gone, there was the loud sound of a switch, and the lights in the hall turned off.

As quietly as possible, Frisk crawled out of the bed and searched her way through the darkness. The warehouse was quiet, and Frisk followed the thin hallway to the door, keeping her footsteps silent. When she reached the door, she pulled it open, hoping it wouldn't creak. Thankfully, it didn't. She slipped out into the night, letting the cold air embrace her.

The door slammed shut behind her, covering the night with a resonating  _thump_. As quickly as her legs would take her, Frisk ran away from the warehouse, into the street ahead of her.

* * *

 A day on the streets had not been good to Frisk. Nightfall was already here again, and she hadn't found anywhere else to go. Most people hadn't given her a second glance, and she had seen a few monsters out and about, walking around on errands. She had hidden from each one, knowing that she must still be on their turf if they were still around.

As the night changed from orange to dark purple, Frisk searched for an alleyway to sleep in. As she came upon one, she found it was already occupied. There was a man slumped against the wall, smoking a cigarette and looking out into the street. Quickly, Frisk backed away from the alley, but the man cleared his throat and looked pointedly at her.

"Hey, kid, come here." Determined to walk away, Frisk turned, but she heard the man stand up behind her. He was maybe thirty, maybe older. "I said come here." Frisk felt the man's sweaty hand on her shoulder. He turned her around forcefully. "What's your name, kid?"

Frisk didn't answer. The man blew smoke in her face, and Frisk coughed. He pulled her into the alley, a sickly smile on his face. The alleyway smelt like stale cigarette smoke and urine, and the man reeked of body odor. Frisk scrunched up her nose. The man's smile grew bigger, showing off rotten teeth and disgusting breath.

Frisk backed away, but the man walked closer to her. He smelt like sweat and pee, and his eyes had a squirrely quality to them, like a rat's. Frisk didn't trust this man. His skin was jaundiced and yellow, and his hair looked like it was coated in grease. His rancid breath floated to her nose, and Frisk fought off gagging.

"Where are your parents, kid?" the man asked. Frisk kept silent. "No parents? Well then, I guess you're all mine. Come on." The man grabbed Frisk's arm forcefully. Frisk pulled her arm away and tried to run out of the alleyway. The man took two large strides and grabbed her wrist. He twisted, sending shooting pain up her arm. Frisk screamed, but the man slapped a hand against her mouth. "Don't make a sound."

Frisk bit his hand, and he pulled away in pain. When her mouth was free, she sucked in air to scream, but before she could make a sound, his hands were around her throat. The man picked Frisk up by the neck, squeezing tightly. She choked and coughed, but somehow sucked in enough air to scream at the top of her lungs. As soon as the sound left her mouth, the man slapped her across the face, one hand still tightly around her throat.

"Shut up. Look at me." The man gripped her throat tighter, and Frisk could feel the bones in her neck bending under the pressure. Her airway felt locked tightly shut.

"No, you look at me." Frisk recognized the voice immediately. "Get your filthy hands off her, you piece of scum." The man let go of her, and Frisk fell to the ground, looking at Sans. The man cursed under his breath, shaking his head vigorously.

"Sans?" Frisk asked quietly, still unable to breathe. Frisk noticed that one of his eyes was glowing bright blue, while the other had no pupil at all. His face wasn't smiling, but set in a grim expression that looked more serious than he had when she had first met him.

"Get the hell out of here. I don't ever want to see you on my turf ever again, you piece of shit. And trust me, if I do, you won't ever be able to touch anyone again." The man walked towards Sans like he was willing to fight, but Sans stared longer at him, and smiled. With the blue eye, even Frisk was afraid. "That's what I thought. Get out of my sight." The man ran.

As Frisk watched, the blue in Sans' eye faded, and his pupils returned to normal. She was shaking, but couldn't seem to get up and move.

"Get up, kiddo. You're comin' with me." Sans watched as Frisk picked herself up from the ground slowly. Once she was on her feet, he turned to walk her back home. Frisk walked towards Sans, but her stomach heaved when she was about a foot away from him. Her throat was sore, and she could feel tender spots on her neck when she touched them. Bending over, Frisk emptied what little she had in her stomach. Bright yellow bile splashed against the alleyway. "Kid?"

Sans turned around to see Frisk empty the last of her stomach contents. There was clear concern on his face. She wiped her mouth, looking up at him. He smiled kindly, opening his arms.

"It's okay, kiddo. What's your name?"

"Frisk," she said, still shaking a bit.

"Come here, Frisk." She walked towards him, and when she was close enough, Sans scooped her up into his bony arms. "Let's go home." Sans started to walk away from the alley, holding Frisk in his arms. She clung the the big- boned skeleton like he was her lifeline, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt his hand rub her back in a calming way. "It's okay, Frisk. It's okay."


	2. New York City, 1912

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years later.

“Frisk? Want to help me make dinner?” Papyrus asked, sticking his skull into the doorframe of Frisk’s small room. She was sitting on her bed, playing with a flower doll Toriel had made for her. Papyrus smiled at the sight of the kid. Since she had been living with them, she had grown taller and gained enough weight to make her a happy, healthy child. She was sick every once and a while, and had some nightmares, but what orphan wouldn’t? Frisk looked up from her toy.

“Can Flowey come?” Frisk asked, holding up the doll. There was a small smiley face stitched onto the center of the flower, and it had large petals surrounding the head. Toriel had taken a long time to make it, and Frisk had loved it from the moment she saw it.

“Sure. Let’s make some spaghetti.” Frisk held Flowey in one hand and Papyrus’ hand in the other. They walked to the kitchen, and Frisk set the doll down on the table. “So what did you do today, Frisk?” Papyrus asked, getting out the pasta. When Frisk had first come into the mob, Papyrus hadn’t been very good at cooking, but Toriel had taught him. Now his food was some of the best in the family.

“I played with Flowey. And read a book.” Frisk handed Papyrus the tomatoes, careful to avoid the knife. Even though it had been three years earlier, Frisk still avoided knives as much as she could. “What did you do, Papyrus?”

“Well, Sans and I went to collect a debt. And then we picked up some clothes from the dry cleaner’s.” Papyrus danced around the subject of the activities of the mob. Frisk was only seven, she wasn’t old enough to know what they really did. The debt had been collected in the form of a soul; the dry cleaner’s was Asgore’s depository. Although they did clean suits pretty well. Frisk looked up at him innocently, and Papyrus smiled down at her. “Just normal adult stuff. Boring stuff.”

Frisk heard Sans’ footsteps out in the hall, and she smiled widely. Papyrus ground his teeth, praying that his brother had already changed out of his bloody suit before he came to see Frisk. Sans came into the door of the kitchen, and Papyrus felt relief wash over him. Everything Sans was wearing was clean and free of blood. When the older skeleton brother saw Frisk, his bored expression turned vibrant, and he grinned.

"Sans!” Frisk charged the skeleton, hugging him tightly. Sans hugged her back, resting his chin on top of her head. He wouldn’t be able to do that much longer.

“Hey kiddo. I’ve got some news for you.” Frisk looked up at him, and he let his grin fall away. “Tori says you have to stay in the cage.” Confusion covered Frisk’s face. “The rib cage,” Sans said, breaking into a bigger smile than before. He opened his suit jacket and trapped her inside, in between his chest and his jacket. Papyrus sighed, and Sans laughed. Frisk giggled into the skeleton’s ribs, which made a sound like a xylophone.

“Did you get your debt? Did everything go okay? Where’s the money?” Frisk asked excitedly, and Sans rubbed her head with his bony hand. Toriel kept her hair cut short, mostly so it wasn’t a hassle to deal with after baths. Even though she was much healthier and happier, Frisk still looked like she could be a boy.

“The money’s in the safe, Frisk. Just like always.” The night Sans found Frisk, he had made a promise to Toriel. He would protect the child until his dying breath, no matter what. From both physical and emotional harm. He did his best, but it got hard when the kid was so damn curious.

The first thing she had done after feeling better was explore the entire warehouse. There had been days of monsters hiding mounds of weapons in various places around the warehouse, always a step behind Frisk. But once she had settled into life with them, Frisk had thrived. For once in his life, Sans had been wrong about something.

Papyrus finished the spaghetti, and the family sat down around the table. Frisk sat between Sans and Toriel, and Papyrus sat next to Sans. Flowey was dropped onto the floor next to Frisk’s chair. As Papyrus dished out spaghetti, Alphys waddled into the kitchen. She wore a pair of stained trousers and a loose button-down, with a lab coat hastily thrown on.

“Hi, Alphys!” Frisk said, smiling. The harried monster smiled back, running her claw through her spines.

“Hi, Frisk.” Alphys sounded tired. Papyrus dished her up a large plate of spaghetti. “I hope you guys don’t mind, I invited someone for dinner.”

“Oh? Who?” Toriel asked, a careful edge to her soft voice. Before Alphys could answer, there were a few loud raps to the warehouse door. Sans got up, adjusting his suspenders. Frisk watched as he walked to the door, a dangerous lilt to his gait.

“I’m here for dinner?” a woman’s voice said. Frisk could see blue skin, but not a face. Sans slammed the door.

“Alphys, you invited the chief of police to dinner!?” Raw anger cut through the hallway.

“She’s a friend! Let her in, Sans!” Alphys called, clearly nervous. Frisk watched as Alphys pushed the spaghetti around on her plate. Sans sighed and opened the door again, to a very startled blue woman.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding, miss. Come in.” Sans let her in, and Frisk saw the chief of police in her full glory. The woman had scales, and bright red hair. One of her eyes was covered with an eye patch, and a scar ran down her cheek. She had no nose, and her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. When the woman saw Alphys, a smile broke out on her face. Her mouth was full of sharp teeth.

“Undyne! I’m glad you could make it!” Toriel shot Alphys a grating look, and Papyrus looked around in confusion.

“I’m sorry, you’re the chief of police?” Papyrus asked, standing. At his full height, Papyrus was intimidating. His smile was gone, and Frisk noticed that the bones in his hands were balled into fists.

“Yes. Although I keep my position to protect innocents and help those doing the right thing.”

“S-she works with Asgore!” Alphys interjected, standing to the side of Papyrus. Compared to the tall skeleton, Alphys looked even smaller than Frisk.

“Asgore?” Toriel asked, bitterness lacing her voice. “You work with him?” Undyne nodded. “That man is a disgrace.”

“Tori?” Sans asked, a question in his deep voice. Asgore was still in contact with the mob, he was the monster that the soul debts were paid to.

“Asgore Dreemurr.” Toriel spat the name. “Frisk, you can eat your dinner in your room tonight.”

“I wanna stay, Momm…” Frisk said, but Toriel cut her off.

“Frisk, go to your room.”

* * *

Frisk left her empty plate by the door and sat on the floor, leaning against her bed. Her little room had a small bed, a bookshelf, and a desk. On the desk there was a notebook. Toriel had been teaching Frisk on a half- day schedule, but even the mob boss couldn’t satiate the child’s curiosity. Dinner had ended hours ago, and the blue woman had left, but the rest of the family was still fighting.

A soft knock pulled Frisk out of the book, and she looked up to see Papyrus standing in the door. He had on a pair of black trousers and a yellow button down shirt. He smiled at her widely, and Frisk closed her book.

“Sorry you had to see that, human.” Papyrus sat down next to her, stretching his legs out and rubbing his eye sockets. “Did you like the spaghetti?”

“It was really good.” Frisk said, picking up Flowey and setting the doll in her lap. “Papyrus?”

“Yes, Frisk?”

“Why does Sans get so angry sometimes?” Frisk played with Flowey’s petals absentmindedly. “And sometimes he’s sad… He’s always awake when I have nightmares. How come?” Papyrus sighed, picking Frisk up and setting her on his lap. She leaned her head against his chest, counting his ribs and listening for a heartbeat she would never find with either of the skeleton brothers.

"Sans is sad a lot, Frisk. He doesn’t like being sad, and he gets angry at being sad. But he’s never angry with you, okay?” Papyrus said, raising Frisk’s head to look at him. Unlike Sans, Papyrus didn’t have pupils at all, but his eye sockets somehow still looked kind and caring. Frisk nodded. “He’s a lot happier with you here. Remember that.”

Frisk leaned up and kissed Papyrus on the cheek. The skeleton blushed, his cheekbones turning bright red. Frisk giggled, and Papyrus held her close to his chest. “Never change, Frisk. Hear me?”

“I hear you,” she said, hugging him back. Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, and Alphys were Frisk’s family now. She couldn’t have been happier.

Frisk helped around the warehouse cleaning, and Toriel decided to give her an allowance for her help. She helped Alphys in her lab too, to make medicine for the monsters and stitch them up when they were hurt. Every week, Toriel paid her a dime for her allowance.

* * *

“Tori?” Frisk asked, looking up at the mob boss. She smiled down at Frisk, pulling her paws away from the typewriter. Although she could be cruel and angry, Toriel had always been kind to her.

“Yes, my child?” Toriel asked, looking down at her. When Tori talked to the skeletons or Alphys about jobs, her eyes were made of steel. When she talked to Frisk, her eyes were soft and full of love.

“Can we go on a walk?” Frisk asked. The warehouse seemed stuffy today, and everyone else was out on jobs. Toriel smiled softly at her.

“Why don’t you ask Sans to take you when he gets home? I’m very busy today, Frisk, and I can’t take time away.” Frisk sighed, but walked back to her room. When she left, Frisk could hear the clacking of the typewriter keys. She may have been the boss, but Toriel also handled all the paperwork and money. Frisk was always amazed at how she could keep up the the family and Frisk’s schooling.

Frisk waited in her room, reading a book and writing by hand. She wrote stories about her life, and also princesses in other worlds, and superheroes, and everything in between. Everything she couldn’t do, she wrote. Frisk never shared any of the stories with anyone except Sans. Sans loved to read them, and he always laughed when the funny parts happened. Frisk was good at writing funny parts.

The warehouse door slammed shut, and Frisk pulled Flowey up from off of the bed. She rushed out of her room, the fabric doll bouncing along at her side. Sans stood in the hallway, one hand against the wall. A streak of blood ran down his chin, and a large cut ran across his chest. His shirt was ripped open, and Frisk could see the broken pieces of his ribs.

“Sans?” Frisk asked, shaking. She dropped Flowey on the floor, leaving his stitched smiling face behind. When he saw her, his eyes went black. Even covered in his own blood, Sans stood and walked forward. He spoke no words, made no jokes, just put his arms ahead of him and grabbed at Frisk. She shied away, but he tried again. “Sans?”

The skeleton’s hands made their way around her throat, and suddenly, Frisk was against the wall, just like the night Sans had brought her home. She felt her throat closing, and tears rolled down her cheeks. She couldn’t make a sound, and as she watched, Sans began to turn to dust. Even as he dissolved, his grip on her throat tightened until she felt herself turning blue.

“I hate you.” Sans dissolved, and Frisk fell to the floor, a mess of memories running through her mind. A bloody knife, a corpse, a grotesque man with his hands around her throat. A skeleton, with black eyes and a menacing smile. Frisk felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she lay in the hallway of the warehouse, unable to breathe, surrounded by the dust of her favorite monster.

The tears came faster, and Frisk felt a broken sob coming from her small throat. The memories came faster and faster, and as she looked, Flowey still laid on the floor, his set-in-place smiling face staring at the ceiling. Frisk curled into a ball, letting the gorey memories overtake her mind. She cried over Sans, over her parents, over herself. She closed her eyes…

* * *

Frisk opened her eyes, covered in a cold sweat. A scream welled at the back of her throat, but a broken sob came first. Frisk shook in her sheets, swallowing and blinking the nightmare away. When she could move without shaking too hard, Frisk crawled out of bed and walked down the hallway.

A blue glow was coming from Sans’ door, and Frisk pushed it open carefully. The short skeleton was lying on his bed, his eye sockets shut tightly. Frisk had wondered about that, but Papyrus had explained that because monsters were made of magic, they could do unnatural things. Like close their eye sockets when they slept. Under one eye, blue sparks shot out. Frisk shook harder.

She must have whimpered, because Sans’ eyes shot open. There was a blue flame for a moment, but it disappeared when he saw Frisk. A look of confusion crossed his skull, and he rubbed his eyes. Frisk felt a tear roll down her cheek, and she shook harder.

“Frisk? What are you doing up?” Sans asked, but Frisk just looked at the floor. Even though she shared most things with the older skeleton, Frisk never told Sans what her nightmares were about. He’d worry about her more than he already did. “Did you have a nightmare?” Frisk nodded.

Sans sat up, picking up the little girl and pulling her up onto the bed next to him. He wore a white t- shirt and a pair of boxers to bed, and Frisk curled up against his side. Even though he was just bones, Sans felt warm. Frisk tucked her legs under her nightgown, curling into a ball underneath his comforting arm. Sans started to hum, and Frisk felt more tears roll down her cheeks. She only cried after nightmares now, but she had nightmares a lot.

“Sans?” Frisk asked quietly. Her voice was quiet and wobbly with tears. The skeleton looked at her, kindness in her eyes. He had a small smile on his face. “Do you hate me?”

“Why do you think that?” he asked, confusion covering his features again. Frisk shrugged, looking away from him. Sans lifted her head with his fingers under her chin. “Kiddo, I could never hate you. Don’t ever think that I do. You’re the best thing to ever happen to any of us. The future of humans and monsters, okay?” Frisk looked away. “Frisk? Look at me.”

Frisk looked, her eyes clouded with tears. Sans spoke, his deep voice full of raw honesty. “I love you, Frisk. We all love you. You’re the best thing to happen to this family. Don’t you forget it.” Frisk smiled weakly, and Sans pulled her in for a tight hug. “Go to sleep, okay?”

Sans kept humming until Frisk fell asleep. When her breathing evened out, he picked her up and carried her back to her own room, where he lay her on her bed and tucked her in. When she was tucked in, sleeping peacefully, Sans took his finger and brushed her hair away from her forehead. Frisk smiled in her sleep, and Sans smiled back.

“Sleep well, kid,” he whispered, walking softly out of the room. Sans headed back to his own room, to face his own demons, alone. When he fell into bed, he closed his eyes. Once he was asleep, the blue glow and nightmares returned.

* * *

Frisk poured her money out of her piggy bank, letting it rattle onto the floor in front of her. There were a lot of dimes, but Frisk sorted them quickly. After a year and a half, she had seven whole dollars and eighty cents. Frisk had been saving very carefully for a red bicycle she had seen out on a walk with Toriel, and she was nearly halfway there. In a few more months, she could finally buy the pretty bicycle.

Alphys knocked on the door. Frisk looked up, carefully dropping her dimes back into the piggy bank. Alphys watched the girl finish, then spoke. Even though she worked for a mob of monsters, the lizard- like woman was very quiet and reserved.

“Frisk? I’d like your help with some things.” Frisk stood up and Alphys spoke quietly. “It involves leaving the warehouse.”

“I’ll get my coat and hat,” Frisk said, and Alphys tightened her trenchcoat’s belt around her stomach. Frisk pulled on her coat and hat, making sure that she didn’t look out of place. “Where are we going, Doc?”

“We’re going to the theatre. I need to talk to a couple ghosts.” Frisk looked up at the doctor and scientist in confusion.

“Ghosts?”

"You’ll understand when we get there.” Alphys led Frisk out of the warehouse, into the streets of Manhattan. The grimy streets were full of dust and clouds of smoke. People walked by in a hustle, keeping their heads down. Frisk looked around in excitement. Even though Toriel took her on walks on occasion, Frisk was always interested in the life outside of the warehouse. She couldn’t wait for the day that she could go on jobs with Sans and Papyrus.

Alphys led Frisk to a theatre, almost a dozen streets from the warehouse. They were in neutral mob territory. Frisk hadn’t ever been this far from home, and Alphys seemed nervous. They headed to the front door of the theatre and Alphys gripped Frisk’s hand.

“Stay close,” she said, and knocked on the door three times. After a few moments, the door creaked open, and a small blue ghost stood in front of them. Frisk gasped. She had never seen a ghost before, much less a blue one. The ghost looked up at Alphys and moved aside.

“Thanks, Napstablook. Is Mettaton in his dressing room?” The ghost nodded, and Frisk quietly followed Alphys into the dark, silent theatre. As they were walking towards the room, the blue ghost hovering beside them, Frisk’s stomach growled.

“Are you hungry?” the ghost asked, directing his voice at Frisk. He sounded melancholy, and had a tenor voice. Frisk nodded, and the ghost perked up. “Follow me. Alphys, you know where Mettaton’s dressing room is, right?”

“Yes. Napstablook, don’t let the human come into harm’s way. Sans will kill you again if she even gets a scratch.” Napstablook nodded vigorously, clearly afraid at the mention of the skeleton’s name. Frisk couldn’t help but smiling at the spooked ghost, even though she knew that Sans wasn’t scary at all. Alphys followed a hallway out of sight, and the blue ghost rubbed against Frisk’s arm.

“Come on. Let’s find you something to eat.” Frisk followed the little ghost. He brought her to a kitchen, where there was a large icebox and a stovetop and oven. “Everything should be in the icebox. You can eat whatever you’d like.”

“What is this place?” Frisk asked, opening the icebox. Inside there was a lot of uncooked food, probably for the night’s dinner theatre performance, and a few sandwiches. Frisk picked one up, and saw ham and cheese inside.

“It’s the _Ghost Theatre_. My cousin and I run the place,” Napstablook answered, sitting on a chair next to a small table in the kitchen. “Mettaton, my cousin, is the star. I write the music for all his shows, and record the records for when we have others come and perform.”

Frisk ate the sandwich nodding. It was plain, but she was hungry. Napstablook smiled a bit at her, pulling a top hat out of thin air and sticking it on top of his ghost head.

“What do you think?” he asked, and Frisk smiled.

"I love it! Very dapper.” Napstablook laughed, and Frisk finished her sandwich. Footsteps came down the hall, and Napstablook turned around, taking off his top hat.

"I just had to meet this human!” Alphys walked in with a pink ghost, who had just spoken. The pink ghost’s voice was a deep bass, and when he set his eyes on Frisk, a huge smile broke out on his semi-transparent face. “Darling! I’m Mettaton, at your service!”

“My name is Frisk.” Mettaton floated forwards, embracing Frisk in a surprisingly solid hug. She shied away a bit, looking at the ghost.

“It’s lovely to meet you! Aren’t you a beauty? Oh, goodness! Can you sing? I simply must put you in a show! You just have it!” Mettaton fawned over Frisk, pushing back her bangs and adjusting her clothing.

“It?” Frisk asked. Alphys stood nervously in the background, staying out of the ghost’s way.

"The it factor! Darling, you’re simply a star!” Frisk raised an eyebrow and the pink ghost. He saw her confusion. “You work with those skeletons, don’t you?”

“They’re my friends.” Mettaton scoffed.

“Nevermind then. They probably wouldn’t allow you in a show to begin with.”

“Nor Ms. Dreemurr,” Napstablook added. Frisk was even more confused now. She didn’t know a Ms. Dreemurr, although she had heard the last name before. Somehow, she was able to get away from the pink ghost and walked over to Doctor Alphys.

“Can we go home?” Frisk asked quietly, tugging on Alphys’ coat. Alphys smiled down at her, and took her hand.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, friends, but we must be on our way.” Alphys led Frisk out of the theatre and back into the streets of New York. As they walked back, Frisk spotted the red bicycle one last time. It was so pretty, and she felt the aching of want in her chest. But Alphys tugged her past, and Frisk felt her heart fall.

“Did you find what you wanted?” Frisk asked when they got back to the warehouse.

“Yes. Frisk, you can’t tell anyone you went with me and met those ghosts, okay?” Alphys responded, helping Frisk pull off her coat.

“Why?” Frisk asked, tugging off her hat and smoothing down her hair.

“The rest of the family won’t be very happy I took you. Just, don’t mention it, okay?”

“Okay, Doctor Alphys. I won’t.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.” Alphys went back downstairs to her laboratory, and Frisk went into her room. When she got there, she took out a piece of paper and wrote “ALPHYS OWES ME ONE” in large letters. This way, she wouldn’t forget.

* * *

After dinner, Papyrus stopped Frisk at the door. She looked up at the tall skeleton, who wore a pair of suspenders over a red button- down and black trousers.

"Come with me, Frisk.” Frisk followed, curiosity running around her mind. Papyrus led her to his room, where a box of bones sat in a corner. There was a desk and a wardrobe, and on the desk was a large typewriter. There was a large bed, extra long for the tall skeleton. “Sans has a birthday coming up.”

“A birthday?” Frisk didn’t know her own birthday, but they celebrated the rest of the family’s birthdays. For Frisk, they celebrated the day she came to live with them - the day Sans had brought her home from the scary man. On every party, they had butterscotch cinnamon pie, which Toriel made.

“It’s a month from now. We have to plan something!” Papyrus threw his hands in the air. Frisk made a face. Sans didn’t like celebrating his own birthday. He liked doing other people’s birthdays and celebrations, but on his, he tried to avoid the subject as much as possible. He never asked for gifts, and he always took the smallest piece of pie.

“Sans doesn’t like his birthday, Papyrus. Why are we gonna plan something if he doesn’t like it?” Papyrus dropped his shoulders, and his large frame looked suddenly defeated.

“You have a point, human.”

“Why don’t we just have a little family party? Nothing fancy, no presents, just his favorite dinner and some pie.” Papyrus smiled at Frisk.

“You’re smart, Frisk. I like your style.” Frisk giggled, and Papyrus leaned down to pat her on the head.

“What day is his birthday, Papyrus?” Frisk asked, curiosity filling her brown eyes. Papyrus picked her up, pointing at a calendar taped to his wall. He pulled up a page, revealing the month of October, and pointed at the fifteenth. It was a Friday, and Frisk smiled. “The fifteenth of October. Got it.”

“Why do you ask?” Papyrus set Frisk back on the ground, and she left the room, not answering his question. Papyrus watched the human go, her small steps sounding down the hallway. When she went back to her room, she found a quarter on her pillow. Frisk dropped it into her piggy bank and went to sleep.

* * *

 “Frisk!” A loud shout broke Frisk’s sleep, and she shot up in bed. There was a bright blue glow covering the hallway, brighter than it had ever been before. Frisk crawled out of her bed, pulling off her big quilt and carrying it with her down the hallway. The blue glow was coming from Sans’ room.

“Sans?” Frisk asked, staring at the skeleton. He was sitting straight up in bed, sweat rolling down his bones. Frisk could hear his breathing, which sounded like the whipping wind, heavy and harsh as it left his non-existent lungs. Blue flames curled from his eye and around his skull.

As Frisk watched, Sans rubbed his eye sockets, his hands passing through the flame. The flame stayed lit, and the skeleton’s breathing didn’t calm. Frisk stayed in the doorframe, watching as Sans calmed himself down.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Sans muttered, the flames dimming a bit. “No. No. No.” With every word, Sans punched his pillow. Feathers began to fly through the air, but he kept hitting. “No. No. No. No. No.” As quickly as he had awoken, Sans seemed to grow tired again. He closed his eyes, the flame going out completely. The skeleton fell face- first into his pillow, and Frisk walked towards him. No else else had seemed to hear his shout, but Frisk knew it had been her name.

As Frisk got closer, she could hear Sans’ breathing. He seemed okay now, but Frisk was worried. She remembered what Papyrus had said, about Sans being sad, and she knew she didn’t want him to be sad anymore. Carefully, she took her quilt and laid it over the skeleton. Once he was covered up, she curled up on the floor of his room and fell back to sleep.

When Sans woke up the next morning, the image of the nightmare still in his mind, he pushed off the quilt. It landed on the floor with a soft thump. Rubbing his eye sockets free of sleep, he looked over the side of the bed to see Frisk’s quilt on the floor. Gingerly, he picked it up and laid it back on the bed, brushing off the dust. Still half asleep, Sans stepped into his fuzzy pink slippers and started to walk to the kitchen. Before he could even get to the door, he tripped over something soft on his floor.

“Shit!” Sans started to fall, but caught himself with his other foot. When he looked down, he saw Frisk on the floor, still sound asleep. Sans smiled down at the human, watching her chest fall up and down softly. Quietly, he walked back to his bed and picked up the quilt. He shook it out and walked back to the sleeping girl, wrapping the quilt tightly around her. Sans picked Frisk’s sleeping form up, hugging her tightly. A tear rolled down his cheekbone. Still asleep, Frisk snuggled into Sans’ comforting arms.

Sans walked her back to his bed, laying her down. Frisk smiled in her sleep, and Sans felt another tear roll down his cheek. He pulled up his threadbare sheet over her, being careful to not wake her.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he whispered, walking out of his room. “Thanks for being alive.”

* * *

 It was only a week until Sans' birthday, and Frisk couldn't be more excited. She loved birthdays, and Toriel's butterscotch-cinnamon pie was her favorite food. The family had been a little less busy, so Toriel took Frisk on walks almost every day. Frisk always loved leaving the warehouse and traveling the city. There was always something new to see, and the sounds of the city made her excited. Sometimes, Toriel took her all the way to Central Park. It was beautiful there.

Frisk was climbing the walls, excitement buzzing through her veins. She finally had enough money to buy the bicycle she had wanted for so long, and she wanted to buy it. There hadn't been many jobs today, so the skeleton brothers were in the kitchen. Papyrus was making some cookies, and Sans was playing a game of solitaire with a deck of worn out cards. Toriel was in her office, trying to teach Frisk how to multiply numbers. Frisk was restless, ignoring the math and doodling bicycles in the margins of the papers. Toriel sighed.

"Do you want to go on a walk, my child?" Frisk nodded, happily standing up away from the ugly numbers. She was good at school and numbers, but they weren't her favorite. She really wanted to do what Sans and Papyrus did, but they wouldn't let her come with them.

As Toriel and Frisk walked past the kitchen, Sans adjusted his threadbarren fedora. There was the sound of fabric ripping, and Sans pulled the hat off of his head. A large rip ran across the brim of the hat, at the seam. Sans sighed loudly.

"Damn it. There goes a perfectly good hat." Sans tossed it at the trash can. It landed inside. Papyrus glared at him for cursing, but Sans just shrugged. "Hey Frisk, come give your favorite skeleton a hug."

Frisk walked into the kitchen, hugging Sans. Once he let go, she turned and hugged Papyrus' legs. Papyrus laughed, looking down at the little girl. Frisk's hair was cut about chin length, and she had bangs that nearly fell into her eyes.

"Come along, my child. If we're going on a walk, we'd better go now." Toriel led Frisk out of the warehouse, taking her hand once they hit the streets of Manhattan. Frisk could hear her allowance jingling in her pocket. Toriel led them down streets, and they passed the shop with the bicycle. The toy store shared a building with a milliner, a maker of hats. Frisk tugged on Toriel's hand, motioning to the bicycle displayed in the front window. "Do you have enough money, Frisk?"

"Yes! I've been saving up for forever! Can we go in?"

"I suppose." Frisk pushed open the door, and Toriel followed her inside. One side of the shop was filled with toys, while the other was full of hats. Frisk looked around, amazement glimmering in her chocolate eyes. There were so many toys, of every shape and size, and the hats were all beautiful. She could see the bicycle in the window, red paint glinting in the autumn sunshine. The familiar ache of wanting it exploded in her chest. Frisk wanted the bicycle now more than ever.

Frisk turned around to ask Toriel if it was really okay, and as she turned, she saw a black fedora. It was beautifully made, and it had a blue swatch of silk above the brim. It was solid colored, and the moment Frisk saw it, she knew that Sans would love it. Instead of asking about the bicycle, Frisk walked over to the hat. Toriel followed quietly, watching as Frisk checked the price tag. It was written in scrawled handwriting, but Frisk saw that it cost the exact same amount as the red bicycle.

"Frisk? Are you going to buy the bicycle?" Toriel asked, motioning to the toy shop window. Frisk turned around, determination filling her features.

"No. I want to buy this hat."

"That will never fit your head, my child."

"It's not for me. Don't tell anyone I bought it, Mommy. I want it to be a surprise." Toriel kneeled down to Frisk's height.

"Is this for a certain skeleton?" Frisk nodded. "Are you sure?" Frisk nodded again. "Okay." When the milliner came into view, Toriel flagged him down. "We'd like to buy this hat, sir." Frisk counted out the money, putting all of her dimes and quarters on the table. The milliner counted them carefully, and when he had all the money, he put the hat into a box and handed it to Toriel. "Thank you."

Toriel and Frisk left the store, walking back to the warehouse through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Even though they were an odd sight, most people didn't even look once at the monster and the human walking hand in hand. When they were back at the warehouse, Toriel helped Frisk hide the hat box under her bed.

"Thank you, Mommy," Frisk said, and Toriel smiled.

"Of course, my child."

* * *

 After Sans' birthday party, everyone went to their rooms to go to sleep. Frisk pulled the hat box out from under her bed. She opened the top, looking down at the beautiful hat. Sans would love it. Before she gave it to him, Frisk pulled out a piece of paper and wrote a little note.

_Dear Sans,_

_Thank you for being my friend. Happy birthday! I love you._

_\- Frisk_

Frisk placed the note in the hat box and closed the lid, quietly sneaking down the hall to Sans' room. The warehouse was dark and quiet, and Sans was already asleep when Frisk walked into his room. She put the box at the foot of his bed and snuck around the side of the bed, kissing the skeleton on the cheek. Sans smiled in his sleep. There was no blue glow that night.


	3. New York City, 1914

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 years later.

“When can I go on jobs with Sans and Papyrus?” Frisk asked Toriel. The monster stopped typing up papers on her typewriter and spun to look at the human girl. She was nine years old, and her chestnut hair had started to grow into her eyes. Toriel sighed, placing her hands in her lap.

“Why do you want to go on jobs with them, my child?” she asked. Frisk set her jaw, determined to get what she wanted.

“It’s boring in the warehouse. I want to leave, want to see the world.” Toriel sighed, standing up and crossing the room. She wore a long blue dress, and even though she was just working on papers, she looked very elegant.

“Going on jobs with the skeletons won’t help you see the world. The world is much bigger than New York City, Frisk. You’re not even ten. There is plenty of time for you to see the world.” Toriel’s heels clicked on the floor.

For the past few years, the mob family had been working with Alphys’ friend, Undyne, and her small police force. She was the chief of police at the precinct on their turf, and most of her policemen were monsters. Specifically, it was often Greater Dog and Lesser Dog who came to the family’s aid.

“Undyne says that it’d be safe for me to go out. Sans would protect me, and we know that the Dogs keep an eye out. Why can’t I go?” Frisk asked, a hard look in her eye.

“How about we make a compromise? You can go with Sans to Grillby’s when he goes. You may go on walks with me or any other members of the family. You may train with Undyne and Sans. I will teach you magic. When you are sixteen, you may go on jobs with Sans and Papyrus.” Frisk broke out in a grin. “No sooner than sixteen. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Frisk ran and hugged Toriel, wrapping her arms around the goat woman. Toriel smiled, hugging Frisk back. _Sixteen_. Frisk could wait that long. It was only seven years, after all.

* * *

 “I cannot wait seven years,” Frisk said, watching Sans shoot at the target at the end of the shooting range. Sans had a Colt pistol, which he was teaching Frisk how to shoot.

“You’re gonna have to kid. Come on, working jobs isn’t that fun. Really works you to the bone, if you know what I mean.” Sans laughed at his own joke. Frisk rolled her eyes, holding her hand out for the gun. “Wait a minute. Do you have your earplugs in?” Frisk nodded. “Okay. Aim at the chest. If you can get a headshot or a chest shot, you can shoot to kill, which means that you can also shoot to injure.”

Frisk aimed at the target and emptied the gun. A few hit the paper, but not a single bullet even hit the man in the center of the target. Frisk set the gun down, sighing.

“You’ll get it. It’s your first day. At least you hit the paper,” Sans said, pointing. Frisk nodded, but she was frustrated. If it was going to take her seven years of training to be able to go out, why was she starting to train now? “Do you know why I’m the one teaching you how to use a gun?”

“Because Mom won’t let you teach me magic?” Frisk asked, pulling the foam out of her ears. Sans nodded, a smile on his skull.

“Well, that, and you’ll need to know how to shoot. Humans and monsters are a lot different, Frisk. We’re made of different stuff.”

“You mean how I have skin and you don’t?” Frisk asked, confused. Sans laughed, messing up her hair.

“Kind of. But what I really mean is that humans don’t have very much magic. They have a lot of determination, which is why you humans don’t dissolve when you die. But they don’t have very much magic. Monsters are the opposite. They have a lot of magic, but not very much determination. So when we monsters die, we dissolve, and our souls move on.”

“I don’t understand,” Frisk said, looking at Sans.

“When I’m fighting somebody, I can use my magic to fight them. You can’t. You can use a little bit, but it probably wouldn’t do much damage. So I’m teaching you how to shoot a gun so that you don’t have to use your magic. Does that make sense?” Frisk nodded, and Sans smiled. “Wanna try again?” Frisk nodded a big smile on her face.

This time, all the bullets hit the target.

* * *

“Okay, have you ever fought anyone?” Undyne asked. Frisk shook her head no. “Damn. Okay. Basically, if they swing at you, move out of the way. When you hit them, make sure your thumbs aren't tucked inside your fist. Use elbows. Just, make sure they get hurt. Here, copy my fist." Undyne made a fist and showed Frisk.

“Why do I want to hurt them?” Frisk asked, making a fist. Undyne sighed, fixing her fist. She took her thumb out of her fist and fixed Frisk's hand, her cold blue fingers slightly damp.

“If you’re fighting someone, they probably want to hurt you back. It’s self- defense. Which is your excuse, every time you fight someone. Self- defense. Repeat that after me.”

“Self- defense,” Frisk said, closing her fist.

“Good. Punch me,” Undyne said. Frisk swung. Her fist made contact with Undyne’s jaw. “Is that all you’ve got?” Frisk swung harder. “Okay. Okay. I can’t teach you how to punch, not the way we’re trying. We need a punching bag.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’d be easier to show you how to hit if I could hit you, but you’re just a kid. We’ll get a punching bag for next time. How about we visit Alphys?” Frisk smiled.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“What do you mean by that?” Undyne’s blue face was turning purple. Frisk smiled. She had been right after all.

“Nothing. Let’s go talk to Alphys.” The two made their way downstairs, into the doctor’s lab. Undyne knocked on the door, peeking her head inside. Her long red hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail, as it usually was, but today she wasn’t in her police uniform. Undyne wore a suit, tailored to fit nearly perfectly. Alphys came bumbling out of the lab, her lab coat stained with some unknown chemical. Underneath the coat was a house dress, which seemed to be falling off of her shoulders.

“Undyne!” Alphys blushed, pulling the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders. The police chief smiled.

“Do you have a punching bag?” Undyne asked, looking around the lab. There were various containers of bubbling liquids, and a few pieces of random metal. A small vase of blue and yellow flowers sat on a table by the door.

“Why would I have a punching bag? I’m a scientist!” Alphys answered, busily moving a few containers. Her claws shook, and Frisk knew it was probably because Undyne was here. Even though they would never admit it, the two scaly monsters were in love. Frisk seemed to be the only one who noticed, but that was okay.

“Could you make us one?”

“Anything for you, Undyne!” Alphys exclaimed, knocking over one of the liquids. It splashed onto her lab coat and feet, and Alphys sighed.

“Whenever you have it, just give it to the kid, okay?” Undyne went to help pick up the glass around Alphys’ feet. Both of them blushed, neither noticing the other’s reddish face. Frisk giggled.

“I’m gonna go upstairs and read, okay?” Neither of the monsters responded, so Frisk bounded up the stairs and went to her room. Sans had given her a book that he had found, and she was already sucked into it. It was old and worn, but she loved it anyway.

* * *

 By the time Sans was home, Frisk was halfway through  _A Study in Scarlet_. The book was a mystery novel by a British author, Arthur Conan Doyle. Sans knocked on her door, and Frisk put the book down. She came face- to- face with the smiling skeleton, who had just come back from a job.

"How do you like the book, Frisk?" Frisk smiled, showing off a toothy grin.

"I love it!" Frisk said, jumping up and hugging the skeleton. He hugged her back.

"There are more where those came from. I'm going to Grillby's for dinner, want to come?" Frisk squealed, nodding. “Okay. But you have to stick with me, kid. No wandering around.”

“Got it.” After dinner, Sans pulled on his coat and the hat Frisk had gotten him for his birthday. Frisk tugged her hat down over her ears and followed the short skeleton to the speakeasy.

“Sans!” The bar was full of monsters, all who seemed to know the older skeleton by name and face. He smiled and waved at every one. Cigar smoke made the air thick and hazy. At the bar was a fire-y monster, who Frisk assumed was Grillby. He wore a pair of thin glasses and a suit.

“What’ll it be, Sans?” the man made of fire asked, and Sans motioned to the girl standing next to him. “Well, who are you?” Grillby set the glass he had been cleaning down on the bar and looked at Frisk. He didn’t seem to have any eyes, but Frisk could still feel them on her.

“This is Frisk, Grillby. How about two cheeseburgers?” Grillby nodded, heading back to the kitchen. “Welcome to Grillby’s, Frisk.” Frisk looked around, the hazy air making everything seem dim but also cozy.

Soft music played in the background, and Frisk could see the little band in a corner, playing their hearts out. Frisk gave them a small smile. Grillby brought back their burgers, and Sans picked up a bottle of ketchup. Before Frisk could even ask for some, Sans drank the entire bottle in one gulp. The skeleton smiled widely, his teeth stained slightly pink.

“That hit the spot,” Sans said, starting to eat his burger. Frisk did the same, the rich cheeseburger filling her stomach much faster than she had expected it would. Sans ate faster than her, but he simply moved her plate to follow him when he was finished. There was a large table where a few dogs sat, and once Frisk sat down next to Sans, she recognized them as the Dogs who worked with Undyne.

Frisk watched as they played poker, slowly finishing her cheeseburger. Sans was drinking ketchup from a bottle, swinging it back like it was alcohol. Surrounded by the hazy light of the bar, Sans looked like he was in his element. Frisk felt a bit out of place, but she watched as their cards fell upon the table. The Dogs and Sans were playing with pennies, and as each round passed, Sans’ pile was growing and growing.

Frisk tugged on the skeleton’s sleeve, and he looked at her. A smile was on his face, and he swung back the ketchup as he looked at her.

“Can I play?” Frisk asked, pointing her small hands at the cards. The Dogs and Sans laughed.

“I’ll teach you sometime. Just not tonight, okay?” Frisk nodded, putting her arms on the table. She leaned her chin against them, the hazy light and warm comfort of the speakeasy lulling her into a sense of security. Frisk watched the cards exchange hands, the pennies slide across the table, and felt her eyes droop shut.

* * *

“Sans? Are you drunk?” Papyrus’ voice muddled through the haze of sleep. Frisk felt herself be put down, her eyes half- open and her breathing shallow.

“I messed up, Papyrus. I…” Sans’ voice caught. Frisk heard a soft thump, and a sigh.

“What did you mess up, brother?” Frisk heard Sans groan, and then felt strong, long arms pick her up. “I’m going to put the human to bed, and then we can talk about this.”

“I fucked up, Pap. I fucked up badly.” Frisk felt herself be laid in her bed, and heard Papyrus go out the hallway.

“It’s okay, Sans. Let’s get you to bed.”

“I don’t want to lose her, Pap. I can’t lose her.”

“Lose who?”

“Frisk.”

"Frisk is fine. She's just asleep." Papyrus creaked open the door a bit, and Frisk heard the shuffle of drunk footsteps.

"Are you sure? She was just so quiet, and... and she wasn't responding..." Sans' voice caught again.

"Brother. She just fell asleep. Humans do that. You do that, for Christ's sake. Frisk is fine."

"Are you sure? She didn't even seem to be breathing...I can't lose her, Pap. I can't lose any of you. Especially not her."

"She's fine, Sans."

"I'm a goddamn failure. I can't lose her. Not again..."

“Sans, go to bed. You’re drunk.”

"Is she okay?" Sans asked one final time, hiccupping. Papyrus sighed.

"Frisk is fine. Go to sleep." Frisk felt her eyes close completely, and she fell into a deep sleep.


	4. New York City, 1914

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week later

"I have the punching bag Undyne asked me to make," Alphys said, her body bending under the weight of the bag. Frisk smiled at the little lizard monster, helping her with an end of it. "Have you seen her since then? Do you know how she's doing?"

"Alphys, why don't you just ask her?" Frisk asked, helping her lean it against the wall. It looked out of place in Frisk's small room, but she didn't mind. It seemed right, getting to train. She hadn't trained with Toriel yet, but she had shot a few more times with Sans, and Papyrus had taught her how to fight with a weapon other than a gun. He used bones, but he showed Frisk how to work with a knife. They were basically the same, but a bone was more blunt. Frisk liked the way a small knife felt in her hand, like she could do damage without actually killing someone.

"I could never ask Undyne. We aren't... I'm sure she has plenty of boys she likes. I'm a girl... She wouldn't like me," Alphys answered, sitting on Frisk's desk chair. Frisk sat on her bed, rolling her eyes.

"Undyne likes you and you like her. Why don't you two just admit it?" Frisk asked, setting Flowey against the wall.

"Frisk, you don't understand." Alphys stood, patting Frisk on the head. "I'll be down in my lab if anyone needs me, okay?"

"Okay." Alphys walked out of the room, and Toriel walked in.

"Frisk, are you ready to learn how to use your magic?" Frisk nodded, and Toriel held out her hand. "Come, my child." Frisk took Toriel's hand and let her guide her through the warehouse, down the stairs. They passed Alphys' lab, going into a small door at the base of the stairs. Frisk had never noticed the door before. "You must understand some things before we start."

"Like what?" Frisk asked, looking around the dark room. She could barely see Toriel, and Toriel squeezed her hand. In the goat monster's empty hand, a ball of fire lit. Frisk gasped, and Toriel smiled in the firelight.

"You're human. Humans don't have very much magic, they have to be taught. Monsters are born with magic, we're made of magic. Training with me will be a lot different than training with Sans or Undyne, or even Papyrus. You'll have to study magic, learn a lot very quickly, if you're to be able to use it as a defense. You're also going to need to know some things about this family, and the way things work around here."

"Don't they just go on jobs?"

"Do you know what those jobs are, my child?"

"No..." Frisk responded, looking away from Toriel's searching eyes.

"We are a mob. We are not kind people, Frisk. We may seem kind to you, but to outsiders, we aren't as nice."

"Do you kill people?" Frisk asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity. Toriel set her jaw and looked away, pulling her hand away from Frisk's. Frisk put her hand at her side, knowing she had her answer.  _Yes, they did kill people_. Toriel cast another fireball, which broke into multiple smaller flames and danced around the room, lighting it up. It seemed to be some sort of small library, full of books that were covered in dust and cobwebs. Toriel sighed, a hint of love and happiness in her tone.

"Welcome to our library, my child." Frisk walked further into the room, fascinated by the thousands of books surrounding her. Toriel smiled at the child's curiosity, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "This was my husband's, when he was still... with us."

"What happened to him, Mommy?" Frisk asked, and Toriel smiled softly.

"Call me Toriel, my child. You are old enough to know that I am not your mother. Perhaps now is not the best time to tell you the story of my past, Frisk. We must begin your training." Toriel pulled down a book from the shelf. She pulled it open, to find the page dog-eared and fingerprinted. A small tea stain covered the bottom corner. Toriel sighed, setting the book down on a small table in the middle of the library. "Actually, I think you ought to know. Sit down, Frisk. Let me tell you the story of Asgore Dreemurr."

Frisk sat down, watching Toriel with pure curiosity. The goat woman moved with grace and serenity, but also with purpose and poise. Frisk hadn't ever personally felt the wrath of Toriel, but she had seen it. Even though she seemed gentle, Toriel could be dangerous if given the chance. The goat monster smoothed her dress and sat down across from Frisk, crossing her legs under the table.

"I was once married to a man named Asgore Dreemurr. He had a very kind soul, very warm eyes, and a strong love for Golden Flower tea. We had a child, a son, named Asriel, and we adopted a little girl by the name of Chara. She was human, like you are. Chara became very, very ill, when she and Asriel were very young. Asriel became ill, as well. In order to try to keep them safe, Asgore took them away. Chara died, but Asriel survived. He was still weak, and young, when I left my husband. Asgore hates humans. He loved Chara, and after losing her, he realized that she was the one who infected Asriel." Toriel paused, her fingers on the tea stain on the page of the book.

"What happened then?" Frisk asked, her attention rapt.

"He swore vengence upon humans. He grew full of hatred, and he changed. Asriel and I both saw it. Everything made my husband angry. In a fit of rage, he sent Asriel to an orphanage. I haven't seen my son since. Soon after, I left Asgore. The man is a disgrace. He was kind, he was lovely, but after Chara... He became a different person. I could not trust the man I married any longer. He wasn't the same man, actually."

"But what happened to him after you left?"

"I took a lot of the family with me. He became a freelancer, of sorts. He collects souls, human souls, and keeps them in the back, in a bank of sorts. I don't condone it. If you ever see him on the streets, my child, I'd like you to run. Run as fast as you can away from him. Do not turn back. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Toriel smiled softly, a sad look in her big kind eyes. She closed the book quietly, rubbing the Golden Flower tea stain one last time. Toriel slid the book towards Frisk, who ran her fingers over the title. It was worn and old, but Frisk could make out the title,  _The History of Magic_.

"Read this, Frisk. We can start on your actual training once you finish, all right?" Frisk nodded, and Toriel smiled. "I think I'll stay here for a while. Maybe I'll drink some tea." Frisk left Toriel in the library, the sad woman staring at the dusty books. For the first time in her life, Frisk saw a tear in Toriel's eye. Quickly, she left, leaving Toriel to her memories.

* * *

Frisk lay stomach down on her bed, reading  _The History of Magic_ , with Flowey watching. Even though the book was faded, old, and tea- stained, Frisk was interested. The book detailed how monsters were made, how humans learnt magic, wars involving magic that went back to the very start of history. It wasn't like a Sherlock Holmes story, but it was still capturing her attention. She was about a quarter of the way through the book when a knock sounded on her door. Frisk turned her head, seeing a tall shadow by her bed.

"Frisk? Can we talk?" Papyrus seemed worried. Frisk closed the book, marking her page by dog- earring a corner.  _Just like Asgore had before her_. Frisk nodded, and she heard Papyrus walk into her room. The door clicked shut behind him. Papyrus wore a red button down and suspenders with his black trousers. He carried a bone like a baseball bat at his side, and he leaned it against the door. "It's about Sans." Frisk remembered the conversation from the other night, the one after Grillby's, the one sprinkled with cursing and sighs. Frisk felt her heartbeat quicken with worry.

"What about him?" Frisk asked, looking up at the younger skeleton brother. He had a longer face, and didn't have any pupils in his eye sockets. Sans said he had his pupils because his magic was very strong, but Frisk just thought Papyrus just had bad eyesight. The skeleton sighed, sitting next to Frisk on her bed.

"Do you remember what I told you about Sans being sad?" Papyrus asked, and Frisk nodded. She remembered the words that Sans had said, his words masked and muddled with alcohol.  _I can't lose her again._ "He also worries about us. The whole family, really, but you especially."  _Is she okay?_  "I want you to be careful, Frisk."  _I messed up, Papyrus... I..._

"Why?"

"He worries about you when nothing's wrong. Imagine how he would worry when something _is_ wrong. Just, be careful, okay?"

"Okay. Okay. I'll be careful." Papyrus looked at Frisk, the glimmer of wanting a promise in his empty eye sockets. "I promise, Papyrus."

"Good. Thank you, human. My brother will worry himself to death if something were to happen to you." Papyrus ruffled Frisk's hair, standing. "Do you want to go practice with me?" Frisk stood, nodding. Papyrus picked up his large bone, opening the door. Frisk followed him, trying to keep pace with her short legs. Frisk was almost as tall as Alphys now, who was just a bit shorter than Sans. By the time she could go on jobs with the skeletons, she'd be taller than Sans, maybe even as tall as Toriel. Papyrus led Frisk to the alleyway behind the warehouse, where no one ever ventured except the monsters trying to be quiet about their entrance.

Papyrus showed her how to swing the knife correctly, his bone arcing and making a loud whooshing sound through the air. Frisk's knife made a very different noise, quieter and stealthier. She gripped it tightly, still remembering Sans' words as she swung over and over and over again.

 _I messed up, Pap. I... I can't lose her. I can't lose her again... I'm a goddamn failure... A failure..._ Frisk remembered her nightmares, too, and all the things the different people said in them. Sometimes, the man who killed her parents appeared, other times, the man who tried to kidnap her. More than other times, Sans and the other family members were dying, screaming at her, trying to kill her. Frisk sometimes forgot that the nightmares weren't real.  _I hate you_ _. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._ Frisk swung the knife, her hands sweaty from the words scrolling across her mind. They were loud, louder than the sound of Papyrus' bone swinging through the air.  _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._

Frisk closed her eyes, feeling her palms start to sweat. In her mind, she could picture the greasy man who tried to kidnap her, could picture the bloody knife and her parent's corpses. Frisk saw Sans, blood dripping from his mouth, his hands around her throat.  _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you_. Frisk opened her eyes in time to see the knife flying through the air, straight at Papyrus. She screamed, louder than the words or the sound of his bone flying through the air. The skeleton turned, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Papyrus looked to the knife, and then to Frisk. Her heart raced, the words in her mind slowing to a silent buzz. The skeleton looked back at the knife, and leapt out of the way. It flew at the wall, and time returned to normal. Frisk's scream dissolved into the air as the knife hit the wall and fell, leaving a ringing in the air and Papyrus unharmed. Frisk heard Papyrus' bone clatter to the floor as he ran to her. Her body was shaking, and tears of embarrassment rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Frisk turned away from Papyrus, running back inside the warehouse. She raced past Sans, bumping him aside and going into her room. Frisk slammed the door loudly, fumbling with the lock that Toriel had installed. She finally heard it click, and even though she could hear someone knocking, Frisk ignored the door and buried herself beneath the blankets on her bed. Frisk's body shook as she played it over in her mind, the mistake that nearly killed one of her closest friends.

After a few minutes, the knocking ceased, but Frisk stayed underneath the covers. She held Flowey tightly to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to forget.  _How could she have been so stupid?_ Frisk sucked in air, desperate to stop her racing heart, but to no avail. The sound of the knife clattering to the floor still rang in her ears, along with her scream. Frisk gripped Flowey tighter, condensing herself into the smallest she could be.

* * *

That night, Frisk skipped dinner. Toriel had come to the door, but Frisk had stayed silent until she left. Toriel had told her that it wasn't her fault, and that Papyrus was fine. It didn't make Frisk feel any better. Toriel had told her that there was dinner waiting, but Frisk wasn't hungry. Papyrus had come by later, but his voice had just made Frisk cry again, so he had left quickly. Now, the warehouse was dark and silent, but Frisk still couldn't sleep. She laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

A soft knock came to her door, and Frisk rolled over. It was still locked, but she knew that there were ways that the monsters could open the door, considering they all had magic. Frisk groaned a bit, trying to tell whoever it was to go away, but the knock just came again.

"Frisk?" Sans spoke in a soft tone, and Frisk sighed. "Are you asleep?" Frisk sighed again, and the lock glowed blue. She heard the door click open, and Sans walked in quietly. "Hey, kiddo." Frisk rolled over, rubbing her red eyes. They were puffy and stinging from crying, and her lips were bleeding from biting them. "Oh, Frisk." Sans dropped his shoulders, worry covering his features. He sat next to Frisk, pulling her so she was sitting up next to him.

Frisk coughed, snuggling into the warm skeleton. He draped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Frisk was still curled into a ball, Flowey held tightly between her chest and knees. The room was dim and quiet, but Sans and Frisk were both okay with that.

"It was just an accident, Frisk. Everyone's okay. Papyrus isn't mad. No one is mad at you. Everything is okay." Frisk shook her head vigorously, shaking the skeleton.

"I almost killed him... That's not okay, Sans." Frisk felt her throat close up, and she stopped talking.

"It is okay. Because no one is dead. And no one is angry. It's okay." Frisk shook her head again. "How can I prove to you that no one is angry?" Frisk shook her head more. Sans leaned his head on hers, moving his face so he could lightly kiss her on the head. "Get some sleep, Frisk." Sans stood up, leaving Frisk sitting in the dark. He smiled at her softly, but she didn't respond.  _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you._ Sans let the door click shut, and Frisk was left alone in the dark with nothing but her thoughts and her stuffed flower.

Frisk remembered every single one of her nightmares as clear as day, as though she had really lived through them instead of dreamt them up. In one of her more recent ones, she had been training with Papyrus when the knife flew from her hand. In the nightmare, the skeleton hadn't been able to dodge the blow. And now, Frisk had almost made the dream come true. Even though in her dreams, it was usually the monsters she lived with telling her that they hated her, the voice in her mind screaming at her had slowly morphed into her own. Frisk closed her eyes, wishing Sans was still beside her. No matter how much she wanted to, Frisk couldn't bring herself to walk to the skeleton's room. Even though her eyes were shut tightly, Frisk couldn't seem to sleep. The whispers in her mind grew louder and louder, taunting her with her own voice, the one she couldn't seem to reach.

_I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you..._


	5. New York City, 1915

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months after the incident.

Frisk had stopped training after she had nearly killed Papyrus. She still read the books Toriel asked her to, but she didn't dare touch a weapon or do anything with violence. Frisk was also much quieter, and didn't talk as much to any of the monsters, even Sans. Most days, she stayed in her room, reading or writing. Frisk slept even more than Sans now.

There was a knock at Frisk's door, and she closed her book. She opened the door to see Papyrus. He wore a big smile on his face, and Frisk looked at her shoes.

"Do you want to train today, human?" Papyrus was his usual cheerful self. Frisk shook her head and walked back to her book. Her throat felt closed up and tight, and her chest felt like it had bricks on it.  _If she trained, she could hurt someone again._ "Are you sure, Frisk?" Frisk nodded, and she heard Papyrus sigh. "That's all right." Papyrus shut the door.

Frisk opened her book and started to read again, letting the magic carry her away from the fact that she almost killed someone. Even almost four months after it had happened, Frisk felt terrible about it. If she hadn't screamed, Papyrus would be dead. But if she had been paying attention, she wouldn't have even made the mistake in the first place. Frisk sighed, laying down next to the book.

Silence was a comfort to Frisk ever since the incident with Papyrus. At first, she had found her voice to be locked away, but she didn't mind that it was gone anymore. Her nightmares were worse, but they only came when she slept, which wasn't often. When they did come, she never went to Sans. Or anyone, for that matter. She just held Flowey and cried silently until she fell back asleep, or morning came, whichever came first. Sometimes, Toriel would come to check on her while she was asleep, but Frisk always pretended to be asleep so the motherly monster wouldn't worry.

Another knock came at the door, and Frisk didn't move. She heard the door click open, and saw a pair of navy pinstripe trousers come into her line of sight. Sans stood above Frisk's bed, looking down at the girl lying on the bed. Frisk saw the skeleton put his hands on his hip bones, and she could feel his eyes on her. Frisk didn't say anything, just closed her eyes.

"Frisk." Sans' voice was deep and had a hint of anger in it. Frisk didn't respond. "Frisk. Sit up." When she didn't respond again, Sans pulled Frisk up. "Snap out of it." Frisk looked away from the skeleton, his face lined with annoyance and concern. She didn't respond, and Sans sighed. "Come on, kid. We're worried about you."

Frisk didn't respond, keeping her eyes away from the skeleton. Even if she wanted to talk to Sans, she couldn't have. The little box that held her voice was still locked tightly away, in an unreachable place. Sans took her face in his hand, moving her so that she looked into his eyes. There was clear concern in his features, but Frisk pretended not to notice as she pulled her head out of his careful grip. Sans let go of her, letting her sit on her bed in silence.

"Fine," Sans said, walking out of the room. He shut the door, and Frisk heard a small thump. Quietly, through the door, Frisk heard Sans say one more last thing. "I just want you to be okay." Frisk looked at the door, wanting to apologize to the skeleton, but even as she opened her mouth, no sound would come. Frisk went back to her book, mouthing the words as she read them. Maybe if she mouthed them enough, the words would actually come. They didn't.

* * *

Toriel called Frisk for dinner, and she came quietly, her small presence barely noticed in the bustling kitchen. Sans had a whiskey glass by his plate, and he swung it back in one gulp. Undyne was over for dinner, and she sat next to Alphys. They kept looking at each other, blushing, but neither seemed to notice. They both greeted Frisk warmly, and Frisk gave them a weak smile in return. Papyrus served Frisk some spaghetti, which she picked at quietly. Toriel smiled at Frisk, but Frisk kept her eyes on her plate. After a few bites, Frisk pushed her plate away and walked back to her room.

Even though it had been a few months since the accidental throwing of the knife, Frisk still wasn't very hungry. She ate a few bites of her meals and not much else. Toriel and Sans had tried to get her to eat more, but she had refused, so after a while, they had given up. Frisk's birthday party, or their birthday substitute, had come and gone, and even Toriel's pie hadn't appealed to Frisk. About an hour later, Sans came back to Frisk's room. Frisk had to assume that dinner was over and that Undyne had gone home if Sans was here.

"You didn't eat much at dinner, kiddo." Frisk didn't respond, and Sans sat down next to her. "Frisk, look at me." Reluctantly, Frisk looked up at the short skeleton. "Can't you see that no one is angry with you? We know it was just an accident, and no one was hurt. It was months ago, Frisk. Everything is okay now." Frisk looked away from Sans, clenching her jaw. "You're angry at yourself, aren't you?"

Frisk nodded, swallowing. Her stomach grumbled, and Sans smiled with worry. Carefully, the skeleton rubbed her back. Since she had lost her appetite, Frisk had gone back to looking like she had when she first moved in with the family. Sans could feel her spine and ribs through her thin shirt and skin, and they stuck out more than they should. Worry made his hands shake, but he made sure that Frisk couldn't tell.

"Frisk, you don't have to be angry. It was a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes. I've made a bigger mistake than you did." Frisk didn't respond. "Do you want to hear a story?" Frisk nodded and Sans let his hand fall from Frisk's back. "When I was a kid, a little older than you, Papyrus and I lived with our dad. His name was Wing Din Gaster, but people just called him Gaster for short. He was a scientist, kind of like Doctor Alphys."

Frisk looked up at Sans, who smiled at the memory of his dad. She smiled too, just a bit.

"When I was a little bit older than you, my dad started working on a big power source. He called it the Core. Dad wanted to make a cleaner energy source for the city, and eventually the country, maybe even the world. For the monsters and humans, alike. He asked me to help him with the project. I was mostly just handing him things, but one day, I didn't do my job correctly. Instead of just handing him a tool, I leaned over and accidentally bumped into him to give him the tool."

Frisk's eyes widened, and Sans kept talking, the memory taking over. Frisk saw his hands shake worse, and she took the skeleton's hand in hers. Frisk squeezed Sans' hand, and he smiled a bit, squeezing back.

"My dad fell into the Core. The whole point of it was a lot of fire, or something really hot. I didn't really know the mechanics of his creation. He died instantly. Even his dust burned, so we couldn't even have a funeral. After that, Papyrus and I had to live on the streets." Sans swallowed, blinking hard. Frisk could tell he was holding back tears. "It's my fault that my dad died. But no one was angry with me. It was just an accident. And you throwing that knife was an accident, too, so no one is angry. Do you understand?"

"Do you miss him?" Frisk asked quietly, her voice soft and a little raspy. After months of total silence, her voice was a lot different than it had been before. Sans looked at her, sadness in his eyes. Even though the older skeleton looked sad, he smiled.

"Yeah, I miss my dad a lot. Like you miss your parents. But I know that he wasn't angry with me, when he fell. And no one is angry with you." Sans' eyes widened, and the sadness dimmed in his eyes, replaced with surprise. "Frisk! You talked!" Frisk smiled weakly, and her stomach growled again. Sans hugged Frisk tightly, his hands still a little shaky. "Let's get you some more food, kiddo." Sans carried Frisk to the kitchen, giving her some more of Papyrus' spaghetti. She devoured it, getting sauce all over her chin. Sans laughed, drinking some more whiskey.

"Okay, Frisk." Sans stood, swaying a bit from the alcohol. "Let's get you to bed." Frisk and Sans walked back to Frisk's room, and the slightly drunk skeleton tucked her in. "Sleep well, kiddo." Frisk was asleep by the time Sans got to the door.

* * *

Frisk slowly brought her voice out of its box over the next few days, carefully talking just a bit more. The monsters smiled every time they heard her voice, and Frisk even trained with Toriel once. Toriel had tried to teach Frisk fire magic, but not even a flame had erupted from her fingertips. Toriel had given her another stack of books to read, a patient smile on her soft face.

Frisk had realized that Sans had been right the next day at dinner. Everyone at the table had greeted her warmly and happily, and Papyrus had even given her a big hug with his long arms. The only person who had been angry with her for nearly killing the tall skeleton was herself. It was an epiphany of sorts. After Frisk realized that Sans was right, nearly everything was back to normal. Her voice came back even more, and she ate seconds at every meal.

"Human?" Frisk looked up from her book and looked at Papyrus with a smile. She was reading another Sherlock Holmes story, one that Sans had gotten for her. Papyrus smiled back, and Frisk noticed the large bone by his side. "Would you like to train?"

"Sure, Papyrus." Frisk dogearred the page of her book and stood, letting the book fall closed. She grabbed her small knife, feeling its grip fit perfectly in her hand. "Let me stand in front of you, though." Papyrus laughed and ruffled Frisk's hair as they walked into the alley together.

"Do you remember how to swing?" Papyrus asked, picking up a knife of his own. Frisk could remember the general motions, but she shook her head  _no_ anyway. "Okay, I'll show you again." Papyrus demonstrated how to swing the knife without killing someone, or hurting yourself. Even as large as the skeleton was, he was graceful with his knife skills. "Now you do it, Frisk."

Papyrus watched as Frisk swung the knife, thinking back to the conversation he had overheard a few nights before. Sans had talked about their dad, a man named Gaster. Papyrus didn't remember him at all, but he did remember living on the streets. Frisk copied Papyrus perfectly, and when she was done, the skeleton clapped for her, forcing a smile onto his face.  _If they had a father, did they have a mother, too? Why couldn't Papyrus remember either of them?_ He had only been three or four when the events that Sans had talked about happened, but it still bothered him. The sound of his bone-on-bone claps echoed through the alleyway, and Frisk smiled.

"Okay. Do that a few more times, just to make sure you remember how." Frisk practiced while Papyrus watched, every motion of hers exactly how he showed her. After a few times, Frisk stopped and looked at the tall skeleton. He was still thinking about the family he never knew, and Frisk could see that he was off in his own world. She tugged on his sleeve, and Papyrus looked down at her, smiling again.

"Now we should try it on a dummy," Papyrus said, leading Frisk back inside. "I'll see if we can get one for next time. You did a very good job remembering how to do everything."

"Just because you showed me," Frisk said, and Papyrus smiled at her. They put their weapons away and Frisk went back to her room, opening the Sherlock Holmes book and reading some more. A few hours later, a soft knock came to the door. Frisk turned her head to see Undyne standing in the doorway. She smiled, her sharp teeth stark against her blue lips. Frisk smiled back, motioning the police monster inside. Undyne sat on Frisk's desk chair and watched as the young girl closed her book.

"How did you know about Alphys and I?" Undyne asked, a serious look on her usually joking face. Frisk raised an eyebrow, and Undyne pulled the hair tie out of her long red hair. It fell around her face and shoulders, making her look much more relaxed and feminine. Even though Undyne was often over at the warehouse, Frisk had never once seen her in a dress. "I mean, how did you know that I loved that silly little scientist?"

"I don't know. I just noticed the way you two always look at each other." Frisk looked back at Sherlock, opening the book again and starting to read. Undyne sighed.

"But how?"

"I don't know, Undyne. It's obvious," Frisk said. "Maybe it's because I like mystery novels. Maybe because you two are terrible at hiding things." Undyne stood, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. "What?"

"I need to think about this, kid. That's all." Undyne walked out, leaving Frisk to her book.

* * *

That night, after dinner, Sans was on his way to Grillby's. Frisk raced to catch up, grabbing the edge of his suit jacket. Sans looked down at Frisk, but it wasn't much of a stretch to look down.

"Yeah, kiddo?" Sans pulled on his hat, and Frisk smiled.

"You told me you would teach me how to play that card game."

"Poker?" Sans smiled, his skull shining with laughter. "Sure, I'll teach you tonight. Go ask Tori if you can come along." Toriel came out of the kitchen, carrying a small pile of dirty plates. She smiled at Frisk and Sans, and Frisk smiled back widely.

"She can go. Just don't get drunk off your ass, Sans," Toriel said with a smile. The monsters had given up avoiding curse words around Frisk, because they knew she would hear them eventually. The only one who only used them rarely was Papyrus, and he just simply didn't believe in using them.

"Yes, ma'am." Sans tipped his hat, and helped Frisk get in her coat. "Come on, Frisk." The skeleton and the girl walked down to the speakeasy, hand- in- hand. When Sans pushed open the door, there was a clattering of people greeting the skeleton. He smiled at each of them, calling out a few names as he made his way to the Dogs. They all sat playing poker, their paws holding a hand of cards. Sans set down, watching them. They were far into a game, and Greater Dog had a large pile of pennies in front of him.

When they finished the game, Sans patted the table in front of Frisk. The dogs seemed to understand what he meant, because they dealt a hand to Frisk, but not one to Sans. Frisk looked back at the skeleton with a question in her eyes.

"I'm helping you, kid," Sans said, placing a small pile of pennies next to Frisk. "This is your bet money. You have to match what they bet, or bet more than them. You aren't allowed to bet less." Frisk nodded, staring at her hand. Frisk looked at Sans, who nodded and smiled. "You've got a good hand," he whispered into her ear. "Don't let them know that." Frisk kept her face stone- set and silent as the Dogs played. When Sans told her what to do, she did it without reaction. The mechanics of the game unfolded inside her mind, and she quickly noticed the pattern. Poker was no different from a murder mystery, it was just a pattern or puzzle to be solved. Frisk watched the Dogs as they played, their faces giving away their thoughts as clearly as if they were wearing signs.

Frisk won the round, and raked in the pennies in the center. Her pile was almost triple the size it had started, and Sans laughed. Frisk rubbed her hands on her pants, leaning back in the chair.

"You're good at this, kid. Now, try it on your own." Sans let the Dogs deal him in, and he took a small handful of pennies from Frisk's pile. Jokingly, she stuck her tongue out at the skeleton. He made a face back, and then the game began. Frisk watched everyone's faces, and quickly figured out what to do. Her hand wasn't as good as it had been the first time, but she didn't mind. Every face around the table betrayed emotion and thoughts, even the skeleton's. Frisk assumed that if she hadn't known Sans well, she wouldn't be able to tell what he was thinking, but she had known him since she was a little kid. Frisk knew every one of the short skeleton's tells.

Frisk won that round again, and Sans scoffed. The Dogs barked, motioning Grillby over to the table. They played another round, which Frisk won quickly. The other players were nearly out of money, even Sans. Grillby's flame grew brighter in surprise when Frisk won.

"Wow. This kid is good. She yours, Sans?" The fire monster elbowed Sans, who laughed.

"Nope. Just a friend, Grillbs." The fire monster nodded, adjusting his glasses. "How about a round of drinks?" Grillby nodded again, walking off to get some booze for the adults. When he returned, he handed out the whiskey and looked carefully at Frisk.

"I'd offer you some water, but I don't touch the stuff," Grillby said, his demeanor joking. "Sorry." Frisk smiled, and Grillby walked away, his footsteps buried underneath the noise of the clatter and noise of the bar. The poker players played a few more rounds, each of which Frisk won easily. The Dogs only stopped when they were out of money. Sans had a few more pennies, but he was getting more and more drunk with every glass of whiskey.

"Beginner's luck, Frisk," Sans scoffed, and Frisk laughed as she rounded up the pennies. It was getting dark and empty in the speakeasy, and even the Dogs were starting to seem tired. Sans smiled at the little girl, his expression muddy with alcohol. "Good job, kid."

"Let's go home, Sans." The skeleton stood, and they walked back to the warehouse hand- in- hand. Frisk's pockets were jingling, and Sans laughed with the noise, the clink of coins accented with the occasional hiccup from the drunk skeleton. Frisk opened the door for them, and they walked in. Sans walked into his room, falling asleep before he could even take off his jacket. Frisk laughed and went back to her room, exhaustion taking over her body. She was asleep within minutes.


	6. New York City, 1918

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years later.

After nearly three years of training, Frisk was an expert markswoman, great with a knife, and could punch nearly as hard as Undyne. She was great at fighting and poker, and her words cut like knives when she wanted them to. Frisk was also amazing at puns, much to the dismay of Papyrus. She was also on the cusp of puberty, and was starting to develop a few curves. She was beginning to look quite the part of the mobster family. She still had short hair, but she looked very feminine. Toriel had finally given into letting her hair grow out, so it was nearly shoulder length now.

The one thing that Frisk wasn't good at was magic. Once she had mastered the other parts of her training, Toriel had even let the other monsters try to teach her their magic. Fire magic didn't work for Frisk, and even though both Papyrus and Sans explained blue attacks, she couldn't summon one to save her life. Undyne had tried to show her how to summon a weapon, but it had failed with a meager push pin coming out of the cyan magic. Alphys tried to show her how to make things with her magic, heat and cool mixtures, but to no avail.

"It will come, my child. You're simply just a late bloomer," Toriel said, but Frisk didn't quite believe her. She had never been able to do anything significant with her magic, unlike Sans or Toriel. Even Undyne could summon spears at will with her magic, but Frisk had nothing. Alphys just smiled softly whenever Frisk attempted magic.

"You know, you're a human. Your magic may never come. But you're so good at other things, I don't think it really matters," Alphys said. Frisk had smiled, defeat hanging over her head. "I don't have much magic either, and I'm a monster! We're made of the stuff!" Frisk sighed and closed the spellbook. Alphys smiled. "Why don't we go see the ghosts again?"

"Why?" Frisk asked, looking up at the lizard- like monster. Alphys' cheeks blushed red, and she smiled.

"Well, the ghosts have been asking about you on- and- off ever since you came a few years ago. And I thought it might be fun for you to take a break and see a show." 

“What about the rest of the family?” Frisk asked, remembering that Alphys had asked her to not tell anyone about the _Ghost Theatre_. Alphys smiled nervously, wringing her hands together.

”They don’t need to know. And there’s only three years until you can go out with the skeleton brothers. You deserve to see a bit of the city before then.” Frisk smiled, eager to see the city.

“Okay.” Alphys and Frisk walked out of the warehouse with spring in their steps, heading down to the theatre. Frisk watched the people walking by them, curious about their lives. Her eyes fell upon a monster, walking a few feet ahead of them, towards the theatre. He had long white ears and a tuft of white fur on top of his head, and he wore a suit. Frisk tugged on Alphys’ arm. “Who’s that?” she asked, pointing at the monster ahead of them.

Alphys looked on in confusion, laying her small eyes upon the monster. He looked to be a year or two older than Frisk, fourteen or fifteen to her thirteen. He looked a bit like an old acquaintance of Alphys’, Asgore, but he was smaller and younger. The monster reminded Frisk of Toriel, his white fur perfectly groomed.

“I’m not sure,” Alphys answered quietly. The boy monster was going into the theatre ahead of them, so Alphys and Frisk kept quiet as they found some seats. They left a seat on the end, and Alphys sat on Frisk's left side. One seat sat between Frisk and the right asile, and they sat near the back of the theatre. The theatre went dark, and Alphys nudged Frisk's arm, touching her thick yellow claw to her lips. Frisk nodded, making sure to keep even her movements quiet. She had never been to a show like this before, or a show at all for that matter.

A soft male voice brushed Frisk's ear like a feather, a whisper traced with the smell of something slightly sweet. After a few moments, Frisk recognized the smell of black licorice. She turned her head, tucking her shoulder length hair behind her ear. Frisk hadn't understood what the soft voice had asked, and when her eyes met the boy's, she held back a gasp. Standing next to her was the boy monster who had reminded her so much of Toriel. A pair of emerald eyes looked into hers, a softness she had never seen before just behind their color. The monster cleared his throat, clearly nervous, and tried again.

"Is there someone sitting here?" The boy motioned to the seat next to Frisk, a soft smile on his furry face. Frisk shook her head no, and the monster nervously adjusted his ear. The closer Frisk looked, the more it looked like he was only a year or so older than she was, and he clearly was soft mannered. Frisk felt like she could break the boy with a single punch to his gut. "May I?" Frisk nodded, and the boy cautiously sat next to her. He never tried to touch her, never spoke to her while the show went on, but Frisk snuck a few glances to the monster next to her. He had a small tuft of hair on his head that stuck up with a bit more puff than his fur. While the pink ghost sang with a deep bass, the monster's face slowly began to smile.

Mettaton floated around on the stage, singing along to the accompaniment Napstablook gave him. Frisk watched the ghosts, entranced by the sound of their music and the smell of licorice next to her. The piano sounded quietly behind the deep bass of Mettaton's voice, and Frisk fell in love with the words he sung to the crowded theatre, all of them equally hypnotized.

_Eyes like the moon in the sky_  
_Through an endless diamond night_  
_We are infinite, nothing can tear us apart_  
_You're tearing my fear apart_

_You and I, together no matter where we are_  
_It will only get better, it can only get better_  
_Your smile_  
_I've found a way to make you smile_

_It's hard for me to stay_  
_But you make all the confusion go away, all of it_  
_And when you find me there, you'll search no more_  
_You won't have to search any more_

_You and I, together no matter where we are_  
_It will only get better, it can only get better_  
_Your smile_  
_I've found a way to make you smile_  
_A way to make you smile..._

Mettaton finished the song, and a smattering of applause filled the theatre. Frisk clapped loudly, sneaking a glance to the monster next to her. He seemed to be humming the melody of the song that had just finished. Frisk smiled softly, a spark of curiosity flaring in her chest. Frisk wanted to know this boy, wanted to talk to him and hear his soft voice, wanted to learn his past and be a part of his future. She was suddenly longing to know about someone her own age, to know what their life was like compared to hers.

The show continued, and when it ended, the monster boy next to her nodded at Frisk and left quietly. His bright green eyes lingered on her own for just a moment, and he gave her a soft smile. Mettaton thanked his crowd, his deep voice echoing through the theatre. Alphys and Frisk stood, and Frisk felt her eyes following the monster boy who had sat next to her. He walked with his hands in his pockets, humming the song Mettaton had sung first. Frisk hummed it too, taking Alphys' hand in her own.

* * *

"Frisk, I think it's time your training stopped," Toriel said to Frisk as she helped her wash the dishes. Frisk looked at Toriel with a question in her chocolate eyes. "You're amazing at all of the things we've done except for magic, and as a human, it isn't as important. Instead of training, let's just call it practice."

"Really?" Frisk asked, nearly dropping a plate back into the soapy water. She carefully continued, waiting for the goat woman's response.

"Well, there isn't any point in training you further if you've mastered everything. The only thing you will continue to train in is magic." Frisk continued to wash dishes, a grin breaking out on her face. When they were finished doing the dishes, Frisk dried her hands and hugged Toriel tightly. The woman hugged her back, and Frisk felt Toriel relax into the hug for a moment.

"I'm going to go read," Frisk said, letting Toriel go and heading to her room, closing the door. She read until she fell asleep, her fingers still trapped between the thin pages of Sherlock Holmes. Frisk's nightmares were less common than they had been, but they still happened about once or twice a week. She had stopped going to Sans, considering she was nearly taller than him and also nearly a woman. When she did wake up from them, though, she still considered going to the skeleton. Usually she just got some water and stayed awake until the morning.

Frisk's hand stroked the words on the page in her sleep, and her face contorted in pain. Papyrus walked into her room, a small smile on his face. Papyrus loved having Frisk in the warehouse, the younger presence bringing some life. It kept them whole, made the monsters keep from sinking too far into the reality of what they truly did. Frisk didn't wake, and Papyrus took a bony hand and laid it on her cheek. She was smarter than him, nearly as smart as Sans, who outsmarted even Alphys, and she had a sense of humor to beat no other. Frisk was fast, sharp, and knew exactly what she was doing.

Frisk's body relaxed with the skeleton's touch, and he smiled. Papyrus took his hand away from Frisk's face and watched her chest rise and fall. Somehow, he knew that having her in the warehouse was something that all the monsters had needed in some way. The tall skeleton walked out of her room, keeping his footsteps quiet and almost imperceptable. When he was gone, Frisk opened her eyes, the last trace of his touch on her skin. Frisk touched her hand to her own cheek, smiling.

Even though Frisk had been living with the monsters since she was five years old, she had always thought of it as a place to stay. Now, as she listened to the quiet footsteps of Papyrus, Frisk realized that the warehouse was more than just a place to stay. The warehouse was Frisk's  _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the baby chapter guys! The next chapter will be longer, I promise!


	7. New York City, 1922

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 months before Frisk's 16th birthday.

It was a cold January when it began. It wasn't much, nothing important. A cough, one that bubbled like poison and hacked like a dull knife. Nothing was wrong, nothing except the venomous cough that escaped Frisk's mouth like a balloon.

"Kid? You doin' okay?" Sans asked, looking at Frisk as she covered her mouth and coughed again. She nodded, blinking her eyes against the sudden pain that stabbed her throat each time she coughed. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Frisk's voice sounded thin and papery, and Sans fought off his worry like a rival mobster. Frisk was pale and looked tired, but it was also winter and she had been devouring books like they were oxygen. "I'm fine, Sans." Frisk coughed again, and Sans clicked his fingers on the table.

"I'm getting Toriel," he said, walking out of the kitchen. Frisk sighed, drinking a glass of water. The cold liquid slid down her throat, but she just felt like coughing again. _It's just a cold_ , she told herself. The clack of Toriel's heels could be heard in the hallway, and Frisk held her mouth shut, forcing herself to not cough.

"What's wrong, my child? Are you sick?" Toriel's voice held concern, and Frisk wanted to fall into the comfort of being cared for. Before she could answer, another cough forced itself out of her throat. Frisk looked a bit like a ghost, and Toriel clicked her tongue. "To bed," she said, pointing a clawed finger at the kitchen's door. Frisk hung her head, clearing her throat before she walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway to her room. Frisk lay on her bed and tried to sleep, but it felt like something was clawing at her throat and lungs. When she finally drifted to sleep, she did not dream.

* * *

Frisk stayed in bed for a week, too weak and ill to move. Papyrus brought her soup and broth for meals, which often were ignored by the sleeping, sick human. None of the monsters had any idea what to do about her illness, considering they had never seen anything like it. Frisk lived in and out of sleep, usually on the cusp of sleep, but awake enough to hear what was going on.

“Toriel?” Alphys’ voice carried from the hallway into Frisk’s room, and Frisk heard Toriel’s heels stop clicking. “May I speak with you?”

“What is it, Doctor Alphys?” Toriel asked, and Frisk could picture the goat woman’s hands on her hips.

“Frisk needs a human doctor.” Toriel clicked her tongue. “I’m not prepared to treat human diseases, Toriel. I know nothing of the illness that has taken her over. I couldn’t tell you what it is or if it’s dangerous.”

“You’re a doctor. A literate monster, too. Read up on it, Alphys. Figure it out.”

“You don’t understand, Ms. Dreemurr,” Alphys said, and Toriel stiffened. “I cannot treat Frisk. And I believe that if she is left untreated this disease will…”

“Will what?” Toriel interrupted, towering over Alphys. There was a look of anger on her face, and Alphys clenched her jaw, trying to keep a poker face.

“I believe that this disease will kill her,” Alphys stuttered out. Toriel stared at her with surprise and a hint of fear in her eyes. “If Frisk doesn’t get a human doctor, I believe she will die.” Alphys shuffled away, and with the sound of Toriel’s heels came the sound of Sans’ footsteps. Fear welled under the pain in Frisk’s throat. _I believe she will die_.

Toriel stood in Frisk’s doorway, looking at the half- awake human. Frisk feigned sleep, and as she held her eyes closed, she could hear Sans stop next to Toriel. The goat woman sighed softly, a wobble coming into the sound. Frisk coughed loudly, and Sans noticed the blood staining her chapped, cracking lips. Toriel covered her eyes at the noise, tears slipping out from them. Sans looked up at his boss, whose fur was matting into small rivers with her tears.

“Tori?” he asked, looking from the woman to the bed that held Frisk. How long had it been since the night in the alleyway? Sans could remember watching the man run from him, taking Frisk back to the warehouse and taking care of her from then on. He had promised Toriel that no harm would come to the human girl, but now she was dying from something that they couldn’t fight. Sans couldn’t shoot the illness, couldn’t use his magic against it, and he couldn’t fight it. There was nothing he could do.

“I can’t lose another one, Sans,” Toriel said quietly, almost to herself. Toriel looked at her shaking hands, knowing that although she could heal physical wounds, she couldn’t heal illnesses in humans. She had tried with her own children, and although it had helped her son, it only made her daughter worse. Toriel dared not try it with Frisk. “I can’t lose her…”

“Neither can I, Tori,” Sans said, looking at Frisk. Her skin was waxy and pale, and her cheeks were sallow and sunk in. Although she still had skin, she looked more like a skeleton with every passing day. Sans closed his eyes, trying to remember what Frisk looked like when she was healthy. She had begun to develop curves, her hair was beautiful and long, and her smile beamed brighter than the lights of the stars. Frisk had become one of the reasons Sans had to live, and he couldn’t bear to lose her. “Neither can I.”

Toriel sighed, her heels clicking back to her office, where she would call the human doctor. Sans looked on at Frisk, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was worried, more worried than he had been about Papyrus when they lived on the streets, more worried than he had been when the girl wasn’t eating or talking. Another set of footsteps came up behind him, and Sans turned to see Papyrus in the doorframe. Sans’ brother often watched as Sans sat with Frisk, playing solitaire if she was sleeping or poker if she was awake, always with the same worn deck of cards. The numbers and suits were so faded that it was hard to tell what was in your hand, but neither of them seemed to mind.

“Brother?” Papyrus asked, looking down at Sans. The shorter skeleton’s face was set, his jaw clenched shut.

“I’m going to Grillby’s.” Sans said, pulling on the hat Frisk had bought him and a jacket. The hat had gotten a lot of love, and was by now well worn, but Sans didn’t mind. If Frisk died, at least Sans would have the memory of the young human girl.

“Sans, wait,” Papyrus started, but before he could even finish his sentence, Sans had slammed the warehouse door shut. Papyrus looked on at the closed door, finishing his sentence for himself. “Don’t you want to stay with her?”

* * *

The human doctor had given Frisk some medication, and had told Alphys how to give the medicine to Frisk on a regular basis. Despite the illness that hung around the room, all the monsters stood inside after the doctor left, watching as Frisk slept. Her breathing was labored, and Toriel could imagine the bedroom door leading to the Other Side instead of just the hallway. The doctor had said that Frisk’s case was more severe than a lot he had seen, and that he wasn’t quite sure what disease she had.

Undyne stood next to Alphys, their hands intertwined in fear. The tall blue policewoman wore casual clothes, but her hair was still pulled back in a tight ponytail. Worry and fear etched into both Undyne’s and Alphys’ faces. They matched the rest of the monsters, who all stared at the small body of the human girl as she slept.

“Do you think she’ll make it, Alphys?” Undyne asked, squeezing the doctor’s hand. Alphys looked up at Undyne, her reddish brown eyes muddy with tears and worry.

“I’m not sure, Undyne.” Undyne bit her lip with her sharp teeth, still looking into Alphys’ eyes. Undyne would never admit it aloud, but she truly loved all the monsters and humans in the room, especially Alphys. Frisk had been right, when she had first asked Undyne about it. “I just don’t know. I hope so.”

After a few weeks of the medication, Frisk’s voice was slowly returning and she was able to stay awake for longer amounts of time. Her cough remained, but the bleeding had stopped, and it only came when she was awake. Frisk stayed in her room most of the time, though, even though she could move around. It was very easy for her to get tired, still, and she stared at the calendar on her wall. It was a little less than two weeks until her sixteenth birthday, when she could go on jobs with the skeleton brothers.

Sans knocked on the doorframe, his deck of cards in the palm of his hand. Frisk turned to look at him. Her eyes still held intelligence and beauty, but her face clung to the look of sickness and death. When Frisk saw Sans, she smiled, her lips still slightly chapped from the sickness.

“Want to play some poker, kiddo?” Sans asked, trying to mask the concern from his bass voice. Frisk nodded, clearing her throat. Sans walked towards the bed as Frisk smoothed the blankets so there would be a makeshift table to play on. Sans dealt the cards, talking to the girl as he went. “I talked to Toriel today. About you coming with Pap and me next month.”

“What did she say?” Frisk’s voice was still papery, but it was a lot stronger than it had been. Frisk felt like her health could fall apart at any moment, but she kept herself together for Sans. Since she got sick, he had been spending even more time at Grillby’s. Frisk could smell the alcohol on his clothes and breath, but she didn’t say anything about it. _That’s a battle for another time_.

“I said that I think it would be best if you _didn’t_ go with the skeletons,” Toriel said from the doorway, looking strictly at Sans and Frisk. “You’re still recovering, and it would be dangerous for you to go out with them.”

“But Toriel, it’s nearly two weeks until my birthday,” Frisk argued, moving from her spot on the bed to the edge. “I’m getting a lot better, see?” Frisk stood, her vision blurring and her head spinning. The human girl fell a little, and Sans quickly caught her, helping her sit back down on the bed.

“No. You may not go out with Sans and Papyrus. That is final, Frisk.”

“You promised, Mom!” Frisk realized her mistake from the stern look on the goat woman’s face. “You promised I could go with the skeletons when I was sixteen, Toriel.”

“That was before you became ill. My decision on this matter is final. Maybe when you’re seventeen, or when you’re completely healed from this sickness, maybe then you can go with them. Do you understand me, Frisk?” Frisk sighed, avoiding Toriel’s eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand perfectly.”

* * *

Frisk’s sixteenth birthday came and went, and she was still not fully healed. Toriel stayed firm on the matter, not letting Frisk argue her point at all. Frisk was able to walk around the warehouse without too much incident, but even going outside would likely have been too much for her. Sans came in one night to play poker, and Frisk stopped him as he was dealing cards.

“Sans, I have to ask you something.”

“What is it, kid?” Sans already had a feeling he knew what she wanted, but he didn’t dare say that out loud. The skeleton continued to deal the cards as Frisk screwed up the courage to ask him.

“Can you take me out tomorrow? With you and Papyrus?” Frisk said in one breath, and Sans sighed.

“You heard Toriel. Her decision isn’t changing, Frisk. And I’m not exactly in the mood to get the boss lady pissed at me.”

“Sans! She promised me, way back when all this started, that I could go out with you and Papyrus when I turned sixteen. Well look at me, I’m sixteen, and I’m still not allowed to go! It’s unfair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Frisk.” Frisk grunted. “Look, you’re still recovering. I don’t want to get my ass kicked. Can’t you just wait a little longer, until you’re better?”

“No! That isn’t fair, Sans. She made a promise, and now that promise is broken. And if I…” Frisk couldn’t get the word out. Since she became ill, she had thought many times that she might die. So many people were talking about losing her, talking about how the illness might take her to the Other Side if it wasn’t treated. “If there comes a time when I can’t, I at least want to say that I’ve been out with you two at least once.”

Sans knew what Frisk meant. _If she dies, she wanted to be able to do this at least once_. Sans sighed, putting the cards down on the bed. He stared for a moment at his hands, flickering from bone to bone, watching each of them connect and become one piece of him. He could see the same thing happening in Frisk’s hand, but hers were covered with pale skin and muscles.

“Fine. I’ll take you. But we have to be sneaky.” Frisk quietly got up and shut the door, crawling back to her bed and picking up her cards.

“So, let’s make a plan.”

* * *

The next day, once Toriel was working in her office, Sans and Papyrus took Frisk out on a job. The air was still chilly, early spring hanging in the air with the cherry blossoms on the few trees on the sidewalk. Frisk walked slower than the skeletons, but she still kept up. While they were walking, Sans explained what they were doing.

“This guy, Jerry, owes the family a debt. Basically, we’re collecting it.” Frisk coughed, and a flicker of worry took over Sans for a moment. _This was a bad idea._

“What kind of debt?” Frisk asked, her brown eyes full of curiosity.

“Money. Lots of money. But he works for Asgore, so it’s been hard for us to collect it,” Papyrus answered, tugging his hat down further onto his head. “But now, he’s agreed to meet us in an alleyway on the edge of our territory.”

They walked the rest of the way to the alley in silence, pierced occasionally by the rumble of people walking by or a cough from Frisk. Each time she coughed, panic raced through the skeletons for just a moment. The three of them reached the alleyway, which was grimy and dirty. Frisk thought of the night Sans found her for a moment, and a small smile came to her face.

“So the skeletons finally show up,” a voice said from the shadows. It was a low tenor, falling somewhere between Sans and Papyrus’ vocal ranges. Two men stepped out of the shadows, followed by more monsters.

“Shit,” Sans mumbled, looking at the monsters in front of him. There was a tall man, with large horns, who looked to be the same species of monster as Toriel. His face was set in stone and serious, and Frisk guessed that it was the smaller, lumpy monster who had spoken instead of the horned goat monster. “It’s an ambush.”

“A what?” Frisk’s voice cracked with the question, and before either of the skeletons could answer, the monsters were on them. Sans and Papyrus fought them away from Frisk, who coughed and pulled the knife out of her belt. She stabbed at the monsters, but missed more often than she hit. Frisk heard gunshots and various sounds of pain, and her vision began to blur. Another gunshot exploded, and Frisk felt a sharp pain in her leg. She fell to her knees, and Sans turned to see the human girl falling down.

“Dreemurr!” Sans shouted, turning towards the large goat monster. He aimed his gun at the monster’s chest, looking at his face with a broken look in his eyes. The man looked up, saw the gun, and smiled.

“Go ahead and shoot me, Sans. Do what you must,” the man said, his voice as low, if not lower, than Sans’. The rest of the monsters retreated from Papyrus, who held a large, bloody bone. Anger was painted on the taller skeleton’s skull, and they fled the alleyway, leaving only Sans, Frisk, Papyrus, and the mystery monster.

“Asgore. You will pay,” Papyrus said, and the man shrugged. Sans’ hands shook, and he couldn’t aim properly. The man turned and walked away, tucking the gun that had shot Frisk in his waistband. The skeletons watched him go, then turned to Frisk. Her pants were torn on the side of her right leg, and there was a small hole near the outside of her thigh. Sans cursed under his breath, and Papyrus picked Frisk up.

“Home. Now,” Sans said, and Papyrus nodded.

* * *

“You did _what?!_ ” Toriel asked, rage evident in her face. Frisk lay on a table in Alphys’ lab, eyes closed, feeling the small monster stitch the bullet hole in her leg shut. “Sans, Papyrus, what did I specifically tell you?” The skeletons didn’t answer. “This could have been a hell of a lot worse. She could have been shot in the chest. She could have been killed.” Frisk cleared her throat, but Toriel ignored her.

“Are you hearing me, you idiots? You could have killed the one good thing in your godforsaken lives, and yet you risked her life against my will. I ought to kick you two back on the streets this instant.” Frisk cleared her throat louder, forcing herself to sit up. Alphys made small protests, but Frisk made sure she kept her leg still.

“It wasn’t their fault, Toriel. It was mine. I asked them to take me. If you’re going to kick anyone onto the streets, it should be me.” Sans and Papyrus looked at Frisk in shock. Her brown eyes were steely and cold, and she looked straight at Toriel.

“Never again, Frisk. You will not go out with them. Do you hear me?”

“You cannot stop me. When I’m healed, I will be going back out with them. I can help them, don’t you understand?” Toriel looked angrier, but Frisk continued. “It was wrong for me to go out when I was still sick. But I will get better, and so will this hole in my leg, and then I will be able to help them.”

“What did you even see there, Frisk? What is so damn important to you that you insist on going back?” Toriel asked, sharp anger in her voice. Frisk matched it with every word, her eyes unblinking and seemingly made of metal.

“A man named Asgore Dreemurr.” Toriel looked shocked, and the anger fell away from her face. “I’m going back out someday, and you can’t stop me.”

“No. No. No,” Toriel said, panic rising in her voice. “You met Asgore?”

“He shot her, Tori,” Sans said, trying to be helpful. The anger returned to Toriel’s eyes, but she was no longer looking at any of the people in the room. “Tori? You okay?”

“This isn’t about he and I anymore. This is no longer a lover’s spat,” Toriel said, mostly to herself. Her words contained acid, and Frisk noticed small flickers of fire magic curling on Toriel’s fingertips. “This is war.”


	8. New York City, 1922

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after the shooting.

Frisk had begun to recover from both the illness and the gunshot, and the warehouse was busy with preparations. Frisk was stuck in either her bed or a wheelchair that Alphys had made for her, which annoyed Frisk to no end. The illness left her soon after she was shot, but with a sewn- up hole in her leg, she was less than mobile. Sans often pushed her to Grillby's, which just made her feel like a small child in a stroller. The gauze wrapped tightly around her thigh was itchy and often stuck when she had to change it, pasted to her skin with blood and sweat.

Papyrus knocked on Frisk's doorframe, looking in on the human girl. Her hair was braided and hung down her back, and she wore a long cotton dress. She normally wore pants, but with the gauze over the hole in her leg, Alphys had told Frisk it probably wouldn't be a good idea to have cloth that close to her still healing wound. Frisk smiled widely at the tall skeleton, pushing herself from the bed to her wheelchair. Papyrus watched as she settled into the chair, a hint of worry flickering in his ribcage. Papyrus had been there when Frisk was shot, had carried her back to the warehouse as her leg leaked blood. She had been barely awake, from sickness and pain, and Alphys had stuttered to them as she stitched the girl up.

"How are you doing, human?" Papyrus asked as Frisk started to wheel herself out of her room. Papyrus stepped out of the way, careful not to let the wheels of the chair run over his feet. He had already made that mistake the first few days she had the chair. It  _hurt_.

"Well, I have to sit in a chair to move around, and I can't stand up at all. But other than that, I guess the world is pretty great," Frisk said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Sorry. I'm just sick of being in this chair."

"I know you are, Frisk. It'll only be until your leg has healed," Papyrus answered, walking behind the chair as Frisk pushed it towards the kitchen. Toriel stood at the stovetop, summoning fire magic to finish the beef stew she was making. "Hello, Toriel."

"Hello, Papyrus. Hello, Frisk. How are you feeling, my child?" Toriel asked, turning to the girl in her wheelchair. The anger had faded a bit from Toriel's eyes, but Frisk could still see that it bubbled beneath her skin. Asgore had taken two children away from the woman already, and she was not about to lose a third. Asgore may not have been the monster who shot Frisk, but he would be the monster that paid for it.

"Not sick at all. Just annoyed at my leg," Frisk answered, pulling the braid out of her hair and letting it hang loose around her shoulders. She raked her fingers through her thick chestnut hair, pulling out any little tangles that stuck in the strands. Toriel smiled softly, looking at Frisk with a hint of love in her eyes. Frisk was clearly over whatever sickness had been ailing her, but Toriel couldn't help but remember the last time she had tried to heal someone ill. Toriel shook the memory of Chara and Asriel from her mind, letting her concerned smile for Frisk grow.

"It'll be better soon, Frisk. I assure you of that," Toriel said, turning back to her stew. Frisk sighed, re- braiding her hair. "You're healing very well. Why don't you have Doctor Alphys look at it again after dinner?"

* * *

"Why am I looking at your leg, Frisk?" Alphys asked, running her hand through the spikes on her head. They had alway reminded Frisk of hair, even though they were covered in the same yellow scales as the rest of Alphys' body. "You've recovered from your illness, why haven't you asked Toriel to heal the wound?"

"What?" Frisk asked, staring at the small lizard monster. "Toriel?" Alphys nodded, moving Frisk's dress away from the gauze on her leg. "Toriel can heal me?"

"Well, she does have healing magic. It's one of her talents," Alphys said, unwrapping Frisk's leg. The gauze stuck a bit to the edges of the stitched up hole, and Frisk clenched her jaw so she wouldn't wince. Her skin and stitches pulled a bit with the removal of the wrapping, and Frisk could feel it. "She hasn't offered?"

"No," Frisk said, keeping her eyes away from Alphys and her leg. She wasn't grossed out by the sight, but the black thread looked out of place against her pale skin. It was a strong reminder of her first job, of the gunshots and the dirty alleyway, and an even stronger reminder of Sans pointing a gun at the man who had shot her. By the time Sans had been able to aim, the man had already hidden his gun, but Frisk had seen him aim and take fire.  _It's easier to kill off a member of the pack who is already weak or otherwise slower than the rest._ He was the same species of monster as Toriel, and Sans had called him Asgore. Toriel's ex husband had shot her, Frisk knew that for certain.

"I bet I can guess why she hasn't," Alphys said, inspecting the wound. She pushed her large, round glasses up with the back of her wrist, leaning close to the stitches to make sure they were working properly. Frisk said nothing, which prompted the small monster to continue. "When Asriel and Chara were sick, Toriel tried to heal them. It worked with Asriel, sort of, made the illness weaken. It didn't cure him, but he was better than Chara. When she tried to heal Chara, her magic just made the human sicker."

"Why?"

"Humans aren't magical. Our magic isn't meant to work on humans. In some instances, it works, like a flesh wound or something physical. But a sickness is not the same as a wound. Toriel assumed her magic would work, but she was wrong. It was a simple mistake, but in many ways, Ms. Dreemurr blames herself for Chara's death," Alphys answered, poking Frisk's wound with her claw.

"Ouch!" Frisk said, jerking her leg back. It didn't bleed, which was a good sign. "So she doesn't use her healing magic anymore?"

"She's too worried she'll injure you. Worried it'll bring your sickness back. Toriel just doesn't want to lose you, Frisk. None of us do," Alphys answered, looking up from the wound to Frisk's face. The lizard monster gave Frisk a small smile, care filling her small eyes.

"If Toriel won't heal me, why can't you use your magic to do it?" Frisk asked, curiosity filling her chocolate eyes. Alphys' voice hitched in her throat, and she sputtered for a moment.

"I..I don't have any healing magic. Toriel is the only monster in the family to have healing magic," Alphys answered, looking down at her hands. "I've tried to learn, most of us have, but she's the only one who knows how to do it, and do it correctly."

"Maybe I'll ask her about it," Frisk answered as Alphys rewrapped her leg. The soft gauze rubbed against Frisk's leg, and Frisk giggled a bit. Her laugh sounded like tinkling bells before she got sick, but there had been damage done to her throat when it bled and tore, so her voice was forever changed. It was deeper now, not like a man's, but a low alto. It was also a bit raspy in the mornings, before Frisk had fully woken. Frisk liked the way it had changed, the way she sounded more serious and less like a little girl.

"I'm not entirely sure that's a good idea, Frisk. But you can sure try."

* * *

"No, Frisk, I am not going to use magic to heal you!" Toriel said, her heels clicking around her office. Frisk had forced herself to walk up the stairs, which had taken her nearly half an hour, to ask Toriel to use her magic. The hole in her leg felt like it was made of molten metal. "It isn't that simple."

"How isn't it simple? You use your magic, and the hole in my leg goes away, and everything is okay again. And I can help Sans and Papyrus again. How is that  _not_ simple, Toriel?"

"You don't understand, my child." Toriel was struggling to keep herself under control. She had never once raised her voice to Frisk, but it seemed like it was getting to that point. Frisk gritted her teeth, trying not to yell. Toriel was under a lot of stress trying to get information on Asgore, but she could heal Frisk, that was something the human girl knew.

"Then make me understand. Tell me how you healing me doesn't fix at least some of our problems." Toriel didn't answer, and Frisk could see that there was fire in her usually calm eyes. Frisk raised her voice. "Explain. Explain to me why you don't just heal me now. It would save everyone a whole lot of trouble."

"Frisk, you do not understand my reasoning, and I am not inclined to explain myself to an adolescent who only a week ago went against my rules and got herself shot in the process," Toriel said, turning away. Frisk could see that her hands were shaking with anger.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't broken your promise, I wouldn't have gone!" Frisk responded. Her chair was downstairs, and standing on her injured leg was making it feel worse. She didn't dare tell Toriel that, though, because it would only escalate the argument.

"Broken _my_ promise? You were dying, Frisk. You were on Death's door, and let me tell you, there is no way in Hell I was going to let you walk through that door. And if that meant breaking a promise I made to you as a twelve year old, then I was prepared to break it. Do you hear me, Frisk? You. Were. _Dying_. I am not going to lose you."

"So being shot in the leg is my punishment? For not following your orders? I knew I was dying. I could feel it. You weren't the one who was coughing up blood, who could barely move. You weren't the one standing there on Death's door. That was  _me_. And since I was dying, I wasn't about to leave this world without doing anything important. I had to do something with my life before I died." Toriel stood in shock, and Frisk continued. "if getting shot in the leg was just the beginning, then I am completely ready to continue. But I have to do something important with my life. I can't sit around in the warehouse being your little trophy human for the rest of my life."

"Trophy human? Is that what you think we treat you as?"

"You treat me like I'm a little kid! You act like I haven't seen evil. I met evil long before you, Toriel, and it certainly is not in this warehouse. But I can't just sit around and hide from it forever. I might as well fight back. I don't want to waste my life hiding from the bad things."

"Living in the warehouse isn't wasting your life, Frisk."

"Oh, really? Going on that job with the skeletons, however much of a trap it was, was the first time I had felt alive in a very long time. And now I'm stuck here all over again, because you won't get off your high horse and heal the hole in my leg!"

"It's not that simple!" Toriel shouted, her voice cracking. Frisk wasn't expecting the goat monster to yell, and she kept silent. Toriel continued. "Using my magic to heal you could kill you! I am not willing to risk that! Not everything in this city is about you, Frisk! Grow up and realize that!" Toriel paused, looking at Frisk's face. "It could kill you. I am not prepared to lose you, my child. Don't you understand that?"

Frisk looked at Toriel, understanding in her chocolate eyes. She was still standing in the office, and Toriel's face softened at the expression on the human girl's face.

"Oh, my child, come here." Toriel opened her arms. Frisk began to walk forward, forgetting the hole in her leg that made it nearly impossible to walk. As she stepped forward, her injured leg gave out, and Frisk fell to her knees. Pain shot through her leg, and Frisk's vision blurred with the sudden feeling. "Frisk!"

* * *

Warmth was pumping through Frisk's system. Her eyelids fluttered open, sparkles of light dancing around in her feild of vision. Frisk's mouth felt like it was full of cotton puffs, and her body felt like it was floating. Frisk could feel a slight tugging on her leg, but it didn't hurt. Cool, thin bones laid across Frisk's forehead, and the blush left Frisk's face. She didn't feel ill, just warm. In a way, she felt like she was glowing. Frisk turned to see Sans, his hand across her forehead, a concerned but happy smile on his face. Sans carried a soft scent of whiskey, but Frisk didn't notice it. The sharp click of heels came from one side of Frisk, and another wave of warmth went through Frisk.  _Toriel._

"Frisk? Frisk, are you awake?" Frisk blinked, trying to form words. The puffy dry feeling in her mouth wouldn't let her talk, but she nodded. "Oh, thank God. I was afraid we'd lost you, my child."  _Was the shot a dream?_ "How do you feel?"

"Good. I'm fine. What happened?" Frisk asked, the cotton in her mouth making it hard to speak. Sans looked at her, a question in his eyes. Frisk remembered being shot, and Alphys telling her about Toriel's healing magic. Frisk could remember the fight, the shouting and screaming, and the blackness. Frisk pushed herself up with her elbows, looking down at the rest of her body. Alphys sat near the hole in her leg, pulling out the stitches.

"Tori healed you," Sans said, his deep bass making Frisk feel safe. "Well, she mostly healed you. You'll be out of comission with that leg for another week, but she used her magic and healed you."

"And it worked?" Frisk asked, astounded. Sans nodded, pushing a few strands of her hair away. As far as the older skeleton was concerned, it was his fault that Frisk had been shot. Toriel nodded, leaning over Frisk. The monster smiled, and Frisk smiled back. "Thank you, Toriel."

"Of course, my child. I couldn't heal you completely, but I did my best." Frisk leaned up, wrapping her arms around Toriel. The magic was wearing off, and a slight throb was starting to pulsate through Frisk's leg. Toriel hugged Frisk back, squeezing tightly. Frisk could feel the relief coming off of the monster's fur.

Frisk was on crutches after Toriel healed her, but mostly to make sure the tiny hole in her leg healed properly. It still ached occasionally, but she was getting used to the dull throbbing that happened when she put her weight on the wound. Sans and Frisk sat at the table after dinner, a small poker game laid out. Undyne knocked on the doorframe, and Sans turned around.

"Alphys is going insane," Undyne said to the skeleton. Frisk raised an eyebrow, adjusting her leg that was taking up a chair next to her. Undyne took it as an inivitation to continue. "She's building something, but she won't let anyone know what it is. She's hiding something, and she won't even tell me."

"Don't worry about Alphys, Undyne. Whatever she's up to, she knows what she's doing. Here, come play some poker with us." Undyne smiled, her sharp teeth shining from her mouth. The skin around the monster's eyes crinkled, and she looked a lot happier. Undyne sat down on an empty chair, patting the table in front of her. Sans dealt her in, and Frisk watched Undyne's face as she reacted to her hand. By the look in her eyes, her hand wasn't good at all. Undyne's face betrayed nothing, but in her eyes burned a small flicker of anger, masked slightly by the disappointment of a bad hand.

Frisk was good at recognizing patterns. She reminded Sans of Sherlock Holmes, the book character she liked so much, in the way that she could deduce things almost instantaneously. Frisk was well learned and sharp as a tack. Sans figured she was probably smarter than Doctor Alphys, but not quite as smart as he was. Every day, though, the human girl seemed to get smarter and smarter.

"How the hell did you win that, Frisk?" Undyne asked, staring at the finished game of poker. Frisk shrugged, and Undyne stretched, cracking her back. "I need a beer." The tall fish-like monster stood, heading to the ice box. "Sans, want one?"

The skeleton nodded, and Undyne carried out two beers, setting one in front of Sans and one in front of herself. They played a few more rounds of poker, Frisk winning every time. After her fourth or fifth time winning, Undyne slammed her cards on the table in frustration and looked at Frisk.

"Seriously. How the hell are you  _winning_ at this game? I've been playing since I was old enough to read the cards, yet you're beating me!" Undyne twisted her hair, letting it out of its sleek pony tail. It fell in waves around her head, making her look much more feminine. A curl of her brilliant red hair covered her left eye.

"The patterns are just so easy to see. It's simple," Frisk answered, leaning over and taking a swig of Sans' beer. Frisk instantly regretted it, the taste nothing like she expected. Sans watched her with careful calculation as she stood and hobbled to get a glass of water. As the rush of water subsided, Sans leaned forward onto the table, his fingers interlaced in front of him. Confusion danced in his eyes, playing tag with curiosity.

"Frisk? What patterns?"

* * *

"The kid's a godamned genius, Tori. We can't risk her near guns and our line of work. It wouldn't be fair to her," Sans said, his voice muffled by walls and space. Frisk could tell he was tainted by alcohol.

"I promised her, Sans. I know she's smart. But I won't break my promise again."

"And what if next time, the bullet hits somewhere more dangerous? Somewhere like her head, or her heart? What if next time, it's a knife to the gut? What then?"

"If she's as smart as you believe her to be, there won't be a next time, Sans."

"Smart people can still do stupid things. We both know that. Look at Asgore. He was a smart man..." Sans stopped midsentence, realizing his mistake.

"Do not bring that monster into conversation unless it is a plan to bring him down," Toriel's voice held steel and sharp edges. Frisk could picture the daggers in her eyes. "Frisk will be returning to work with you and your brother as soon as her leg has fully healed. Do you understand me?"

"Tori.."

"Do you understand me, Sans?"

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Frisk was finally fully healed, and the skeletons had a job. Frisk bounded along after them, eager to be back out on the job. Papyrus was happy to have her, too, but Sans was consumed with worry. Out of Papyrus and Frisk's eyes, Sans took a large swig of whiskey from his flask. The booze burned down the skeleton's non-existant throat, warming his bones and giving him a dose of liquid courage.

"Sans, do you see him?" Frisk asked, looking around. They were looking for Jerry, the monster who had lured them into the trap. Frisk and Papyrus looked around, using their height for as much advantage as it gave them. Sans stumbled forward, trying to hide the alcohol in his system.

"Who?" Sans asked, his deep voice thick. Papyrus started to sigh, but then caught sight of the small, lumpy monster.

"Found him." Frisk and Papyrus began to jog towards the monster, with Sans stumbling behind. "Jerry!" Papyrus shouted, and the monster turned. His beady eyes widened, and Jerry turned towards the human and the skeleton, his small pudgy hands in the air.

"You owe us a debt. One that put a bullet in my associate here. Now it's time to pay up," Papyrus said, hand on the knife in his belt. Sans stumbled a bit into Frisk, straightening next to her and trying to look intimidating. Frisk could smell the stench of whiskey coming from his bones. Jerry fidgeted, pulling a wad of cash out of his wallet. Frisk didn't want to know where the wallet came from, so she didn't ask.

"It's all I've got. Please don't hurt me," Jerry said nervously, looking up at the two skeletons and the human girl. Papyrus counted the money, shaking his head.  _It wasn't enough._ Sans stepped forward, blue flame erupting from his eye. A tendril of the flame licked Frisk's skin, and a small burn appeared on her arm. The magic weakened her, and she fell a bit against Papyrus.

"Pay up, Jerry. One way or another." Sans' voice was low and growly, clearly helped by the burn of whiskey. Jerry started to turn away, but Sans' magic held him in place. "If you don't have money, you can pay in another way." The blue flame grew. "Where. The. Hell. Is. Asgore. Dreemurr."

"I- I don't know. H-he fired me." Sans started to pull Jerry off the ground with his magic. The small monster fidgited, his grey lumpy skin taut and sweaty. "I swear to God, I'm telling the truth!" Jerry cried, and Papyrus placed a hand on Sans' shoulder, supporting Frisk with his other side. Sans dropped Jerry, who landed on the sidewalk with a loud thump. "Go," Sans growled. Jerry ran.

* * *

"Is she going to be okay?" Sans asked, the alcohol slurring his speech. Frisk was half- asleep, her stomach full. The magic had weakened her, but nothing a good night of sleep couldn't fix. Papyrus sighed, presumably looking down at his drunk brother.

"She'll be fine. You? Not so much," Papyrus answered. "Drinking on the job? Really? You've been better, brother. You are better than that." Sans didn't respond. "Seriously, Sans? You're drunk, even now?"

"I fucked up, didn't I?" Sans asked, his voice quiet and broken.

"Yes, brother. Yes you did."

 


	9. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 years later.

"Ready, human?" Papyrus asked, a smile on his skull. Frisk finished her braid, standing up. She was dressed in a suit much like the skeleton's, and it showed off every one of her curves in a good way. Since she had turned sixteen, she had turned into a beautiful, well- trained badass. Sans came up behind them, a large trombone case in one of his hands. Papyrus turned around, looking down at his older brother.

"Sans? What is that?" Papyrus asked, pointing at the case. Sans' face broke out in a huge grin. Usually, he was at Grillby's, or drunk, but he always managed to stay sober for jobs. The stench of whiskey clung to the short skeleton like cologne, and Frisk had grown used to the smell. She had also grown to hate it, but she tried desperately to ignore that part. Sans had been drinking a lot more since she had gotten sick all those years ago, and the alcohol just didn't seem to have an end.

"Just an instrument," Sans answered, his grin growing wider. Sans seemed to be the happiest telling jokes, or with his brother and Frisk.  _Sober_. "I'm sure you know what kind."

"Did you buy a slidey trumpet?" Frisk asked, egging on the joke. Papyrus always faked like he hated the jokes, but in truth, he loved him.

"Human, you of all people should know that it's called a trombone," Papyrus said, and then rested his forehead in one of his hands. "I walked into that, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes you did. Come on, bro. We've got work to do." The trio left the warehouse, Sans wearing the fedora Frisk had bought him years ago. He had said many times that it was his favorite hat, and it always warmed Frisk's heart to see him wearing it. The silly thing was falling apart, but Sans didn't care. It hadn't ripped or torn, it was just faded.  _Comfortable_. Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus walked down the street, Sans' trombone case bringing some attention to the trio. "Okay, we're looking for a tall, red building."

Frisk saw it in the distance, and nudged Sans. "That one?" she asked quietly, and Sans nodded. "Got it. Sans, you know what to do." Sans stopped in the middle of the street, letting Papyrus and Frisk keep walking. Carefully, the short skeleton opened the trombone case, acting as if he was hiding a large gun inside. There were a few cops on the street, ones that weren't in with the family, and they noticed him. Papyrus kept walking, head down, while Frisk peeled away. She walked into an alley, finding a fire escape and beginning to climb.

"Hey! Monster!" One of the cops shouted at Sans, but he ignored them. He smiled to himself, quickly clasping the trombone case back up and starting to run in the direction of the building. Papyrus kept walking, head down. Frisk climbed up to the roof of one of the buildings, making sure the red building was still in her sights. She raced towards the side of the building, jumping as hard as she could. For a few sweet seconds, she was weightless. Air surrounded her, and Frisk felt like she was a bird, flying with just the power of her feet. A sharp jolt of pain ran through her ankles as she landed, but once she was on her feet, it disappated like cigar smoke in Grillby's.

Frisk jumped a few more rooftops, the adrenaline from each jump coursing through her veins, faster than blood. Frisk loved working. It made her feel alive, made the need for air so much more real, but much more satisfying when she did suck in a breath. From the rooftops, the city was beautiful, the bustling people below clueless as to what their lives would amount to. Frisk didn't know either, which was part of the beauty of it. But while she was working, Frisk didn't think too much of that, because there was always something to be done.

Back on the ground, Sans was nearing the building. Frisk only had one more jump to make, which she did promptly, then climbed down the fire escape to some boarded up windows. With all her might, Frisk kicked them in. Wood shattered, sending shards flying into the air. Frisk instinctively covered her face, feeling the tiny wood chips bounce off of the sleeves of her jacket. Once that was over, she climbed inside, the thin sunlight making the floor look slightly grey.

Frisk made her way quickly to the ground floor, breaking a window open for Sans and Papyrus to climb in. According to Grillby, there were some rival mobsters hiding out in the building, and the three were determined to find them. Sans arrived first, handing Frisk his trombone case as he climbed in the window.

"Don't wanna hurt my baby," he commented, taking it back and opening it. Inside was an actual trombone, but stuffed in the corners of the case were varying amounts of ammunition. Sans pulled some out as Papyrus climbed in the window, handing the bullets to his brother behind his back. Papyrus loaded them into Sans' gun for him as Sans handed Frisk her knife. She took it carefully, sliding it into one of her belt loops. When they were finished, Sans closed the case and stood. "Let's kick some ass."

The trio spread out through the house, searching silently. Frisk kept her eyes wide open, listening for any possible sound. A rat skittered across the floor, and Frisk jumped back, careful not to make a sound of surprise. Her jump made more noise than she intended though, because suddenly there was a furry hand over her mouth. Immediately, she tried to grab at her knife, but another hand pulled both of hers behind her back, holding her wrists together tightly. The smell of licorice invaded her nose, and Frisk fought the urge to cough.

"Don't make a sound," a soft male voice said into her ear. Frisk bit the voice's hand, and he pulled it away in pain. Frisk wrenched herself from the monster's grip, running as she pulled her knife from her belt. Before she could call out for either of the skeletons, she heard Papyrus' tenor voice carry across the building.

"Frisk!" Frisk followed the echoes of the skeleton's voice, finding both Sans and Papyrus locked in combat with three monsters each.  _Six against two. Unfair odds._ Frisk brandished her knife in front of her, flying into combat. A gunshot exploded, and Frisk saw one of the monsters fighting Sans fall, clutching at his knee. Papyrus stabbed a knife into one of his assailant's arms, pulling it out and paying no attention to the monster who fell in pain. One of the two monsters left with Sans turned to see Frisk. He came at her, and she set her feet. A growl escaped his throat, and as he got closer, Frisk swung a punch. The monster fell, unconcious.

A blue glow filled the room, and Frisk saw Sans use his magic to slam the last monster fighting him into a wall. The monster slid to the floor, passed out stone cold. Papyrus punched the last of his attackers, and the three were surrounded by the fallen mobsters. Papyrus picked one of their handkerchiefs out of their breast pockets and cleaned his knife of blood, dropping the cloth back onto its owner.

"Come on, let's go," Sans said, heading back to the room where the trombone case was. They replaced their weapons, and Sans closed the case. The trio climbed back out the window, making their way quietly back to the warehouse. Frisk walked behind the skeletons, who joked and laughed like brothers. She could hear soft footsteps behind them, a follower. Frisk didn't dare let on, but when they arrived at the warehouse, she let the skeletons go ahead inside. Frisk turned to see a monster the same species as Toriel and Asgore.

"You dare follow me?" she asked, acid in her voice. The monster didn't respond, just lunged at her and wrapped his hands around her throat. He had infinite green eyes, the kind someone could get lost in. Frisk stared into them with steel in her own, fighting off the memories of so many years ago, the night Sans had saved her.  _What that man would have done, had Sans not been there..._ Frisk closed her eyes, gasping for air. The monster continued to squeeze, and Frisk opened her eyes again.  _Licorice_. The monster in front of her, the one with his hands around her throat, was the same one from the theatre all those years ago. The same soft voice...

"You," the monster said, his voice and grip on Frisk softening. His green eyes were soft, and Frisk could feel his hands pulling away.  _This was her chance_. Without thinking, Frisk punched the monster as hard as she could in the jaw. He fell onto her, unconcious. Frisk pushed him off, tugging him inside by his shirt collar. Sans was still taking off his coat, and he noticed the red marks around Frisk's throat before he noticed the monster she dragged behind her.

"Frisk? What happened, kid?" Frisk dropped the monster down, closing the door. His head thumped against the floor. "Frisk, what the hell happened? Are you alright?"

"We had a tail," she responded. Without another word, Frisk stepped over the white- furred monster and walked to her room.

* * *

Sans tapped his bony hand against the monster's furry cheek. Frisk's punch had left a small cut, which was red with blood. Out of pure spite, Sans made sure the tip of his fingers hit the cut with every tap. The monster's eyes fluttered open. He was a kid, maybe a bit older than Frisk, and it was clear in the confusion in his green eyes. Sans' breath smelled like whiskey, and as the fur covered monster's eyes focused, he noticed another tall skeleton in the corner of the room, brandishing a large bone. The monster who had attacked Frisk was tied to a chair, still unconcious from Frisk's punch.

"Oh good, it's awake," Sans said, an edge of anger in his deep voice. "What's your name, jackass?"

"A-As..."

"Asriel!" Toriel cried, bursting into the room. She was followed by Frisk, the concern painted on Toriel's face as clear as the reddish-purple bruises on Frisk's throat. Recognition replaced confusion in the younger monster's eyes, and he looked at Toriel. "Son!"

"Mom?" Asriel's voice was soft, nothing like you'd expect from a mobster. Toriel smiled, and a prickle of jealousy raced down Frisk's spine. "Is it really you?" Toriel nodded, and then turned to Papyurs. There was a light in her eyes that Frisk had never seen before, and the prickle of jealousy ran down her spine again.  _The prodigal son had returned._

"Papyrus, untie my son this instant!" Toriel said sharply.

"Ma'am, he attacked Frisk," Papyrus said, letting the bone he held rest at his side. Toriel looked at Frisk, noticing for the first time the bruises that ran across the skin of her neck. Frisk looked away, a blush rising to her cheeks. Toriel looked at Asriel, who shrugged at stole a glance at the bruises on Frisk's neck.  _Was he_ proud _of what he did?_ "Are you sure you want him released?"

"Let me talk to my son," Toriel said, looking around the room with sudden anger in her eyes. Sans and Papyrus looked at each other, confusion clear in their bones. Frisk swallowed, trying to ignore the pain that came with the bruises. This was not a new feeling to her, but it had been so long since she had felt these bruises. Sans was just drunk enough to not make the connection. "Go!" Toriel said, an edge in her usually kind, soft voice. Frisk turned quickly, walking out with her head down. Papyrus dragged Sans out by his coat collar.

Toriel shut the door after them, and Frisk stared longingly at the closed door. It wasn't long ago that Toriel had called Frisk her child. Now, her son had returned, seemingly back from the dead. Everything was about to change, Frisk could feel it in the air. The change crackled like static, buzzing through the air like a coming storm. Frisk needed fresh air. Papyrus had already gone to his room, presumably to read or plan out something, and Sans was at the door.

"I'm going to Grillby's," Sans said, putting his fedora back on. Frisk wanted to tell him to stay, but the words wouldn't come out of her throat. Instead, she smiled softly at him and watched him go, alcohol already making him stumble a bit. Frisk sighed as the warehouse door slammed shut. As loudly as she dared, Frisk called out to Papyrus.

"I'm going on a walk, Papyrus." Without another word or look at the door she had been shut from, Frisk took her coat and walked out of the warehouse. Once she was outside, her regular life seemed like it belonged to someone else. Frisk inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the small stabs of pain from the bruises. Somehow, she would have to find a way to cover those until they healed. It was not attractive to walk around with big bruises on your neck.

As Frisk walked down the street, her eyes scanned for abandoned buildings or empty alleyways. Rooftops were a great place to think, and Frisk loved to climb up to them. It made her feel like she was in a Sherlock Holmes novel, solving mysteries and going into her own mind to solve a big problem. Frisk's problems were rarely big, but she still liked to think while she was alone. Sans, when he was drunk, often called her a genius. Frisk usually laughed it off, but sometimes she wondered. She did seem to be pretty smart, and good at patterns.

Frisk saw an empty alley, and it had a fire escape clinging to one of the buildings that would take her straight up to the roof. Quickly, Frisk made a beeline to the metal structure and started to climb. She made sure that she kept everything quiet as she climbed, in case any police who didn't know her happened to walk by. Frisk managed to get to the roof quickly, and she sighed with relief. From the roof, she could see the entirety of Manhattan. It seemed limitless, the tiny streets intersecting and crossing over, Central Park in the distance. Compared to New York, Frisk was a small speck lost in a giant map.

Frisk sat on the roof, staring across the horizon, until nightfall. The stars appeared overhead, and Frisk started to count them. She didn't get very far before her mind started connecting them into constellations. Staring up at the sky, Frisk felt even smaller. In the stars, Frisk thought she saw a pair of eyes, much like the ones of the boy who had nearly choked the life of her. Frisk laid onto the concrete of the roof, staring up at the velvet punctured by needlepoints of light. Feeling so small, Frisk couldn't help but remember her life.

There were faded memories of her parents, turned brown and nearly forgotten by time and experience. Past that, there were memories of killing, of meeting the skeleton brothers, running away, and the man. Now that she was older, Frisk realized that the man probably would have killed her, sold her, or raped her if Sans had not interfered. After that night came memories of living with the family, of Toriel and Alphys, and of Grillby's. She had memories of nearly killing Papyrus, the time that came after so dark it was nearly black. Training memories continued, and then the sickness, the constant feeling of exhaustion, of standing on Death's door and just waiting for it to open. A gunshot. And then, now, laying on a rooftop.

One afternoon stood out in Frisk's mind though, one afternoon that Frisk thought of often. It was the second time she and Alphys had gone to the theatre, where they had seen the show Mettaton put on. The boy, Asriel, had sat next to her, entirely quiet the whole time. That afternoon smelled like licorice.  _Asriel_ smelled like licorice. On the rooftop, staring up at the infinite stars layered on top of her, Frisk remembered that afternoon like it had happened yesterday. She closed her eyes, imagining the smell of black licorice next to her. For some reason, from that day, she had loved the smell. There was a bit of a shuffle on the street below her, and Frisk sat up, looking down at a small figure walking drunkenly back in the direction of the warehouse. Probably Sans, stumbling home from Grillby's. It was likely close to midnight by now, but Frisk didn't care. The rooftop was comfortable, and the stars would provide her a blanket for the night.

Frisk laid back down, her eyes exploring the stars above her. Her mind, though, was doing something completely different. Frisk's mind was singing, remembering. Frisk felt herself hum the melody of the song that had played in that theatre all those years ago.

_Eyes like the moon in the sky_  
_Through an endless diamond night_  
_We are infinite, nothing can tear us apart_  
_You're tearing my fear apart_

_You and I, together no matter where we are_  
_It will only get better, it can only get better_  
_Your smile_  
_I've found a way to make you smile_

_It's hard for me to stay_  
_But you make all the confusion go away, all of it_  
_And when you find me there, you'll search no more_  
_You won't have to search any more_

_You and I, together no matter where we are_  
_It will only get better, it can only get better_  
_Your smile_  
_I've found a way to make you smile_  
_A way to make you smile..._

Frisk fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

Frisk shot up, the chilled morning air freezing the sweat pouring down her neck. The fragments of a nightmare flashed in her mind, and Frisk felt her hands clench against the cool concrete underneath her. Her nails scratched against it, and Frisk fought to calm her breathing. It had been months since she had had a nightmare, and years since she one had been this bad. Her fever nightmares had been distorted and gory, but this was something different.  _Frisk was completely alone_.

Once her breathing had calmed and the images had stalled from her mind a bit, Frisk stood up and brushed herself off, trying to stay inconspicuous above the rooftops of New York City. Frisk climbed down the way she climbed up, walking quickly back to the warehouse. She needed a bath and a nap in her own bed, some food, and just warmth.

The warehouse door creaked open as Frisk pushed it open, and a blast of warmth from the inside hit Frisk. She shivered and walked inside, hoping that no hell had broken loose in her absence. Breakfast smells were coming from the kitchen, and Frisk followed them. Toriel stood at the stove, her fire magic heating the room and the food she was preparing. It seemed like the skeletons were already gone, and the warehouse was generally quiet.

"Good morning, my child," Toriel said, nodding kindly in the direction of Frisk. Frisk smiled, getting ready to walk into the kitchen. Someone pushed past her and walked up to Toriel, embracing her tightly.  _Asriel._ "How did you sleep?"

"Great, Mom. Thank you for letting me stay with you." Asriel's voice was still soft, and with Toriel, it held a tone of love and warmth. Frisk put her head down, turning on her heel. A hand clasped her wrist. "Miss? I'd like to apologize for yesterday. I never even caught your name," Asriel said. Frisk didn't look at the goat monsters. She had no place in this family, now that it was nearly complete.

"Frisk," she answered quietly, pulling her wrist from Asriel's grip and walking away. The clicking of Toriel's heels followed her, but Frisk didn't dare turn around. She reached the bathroom, aching for a bath and somewhere to be far, far away from Toriel's son.

"Frisk?" Toriel asked as Frisk opened the bathroom door. Frisk said nothing, shutting the door loudly. She drew a bath after locking the door, taking off yesterday's clothing and sliding into the warm water. The scarred hole on her leg reminded her of Asgore, Asriel's father.  _Why was everything in her life suddenly changed by this monster?_ It didn't make sense to Frisk.

Sans and Papyrus came home that afternoon, and Frisk raced to greet them. Asriel couldn't possibly have ruined her friendship with the skeletons in the one night she was gone. Sans smiled at Frisk, who had her hair down and was wearing a pair of loose pants and a loose top. She was dressed for comfort, carefully avoiding Toriel and her son.

"Hey, kid, where were you this morning?" Sans asked, hanging up his coat. Frisk sighed, running a hand through her long hair. It was down to her mid- back by now, and when it was down, Frisk transcended beautiful. "Nevermind. I'm not sure I want to know." Frisk smiled, silently thanking him with her dark eyes. Sans seemed to understand. "Let's get some grub. I'm starvin'!"

Frisk ate in silence, keeping her eyes away from Asriel. Something about him drew her closer, but she wanted to fight it. Somehow, he still smelled like licorice. Papyrus and Alphys tried to keep small talk going, but it all felt awkward. Frisk was vaguely reminded of the first days she had lived with them, while they all got used to her. Sans had taken care of her through the nightmares, the constant fear that she seemed to live in. While he was gone, Toriel took care of her, and Alphys entertained her. The awkward monster had let her hide in her stained, dirty lab coat. Toriel's voice cut through the haze of the memories, pulling Frisk painfully back to the dinner table.

"Frisk? Would that be okay with you?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Frisk asked, swallowing thickly.

"Mom asked if you'd be okay with changing partners," Asriel answered. Frisk felt a small part of herself melt, but then she remembered the bruises on her throat.

"You mean leaving Sans and Papyrus? Who would I work with instead?" Sans looked pointedly at Frisk, and she realized who she would be working with.  _Toriel's son._ "I see. Toriel, may I speak with you privately after dinner?"

"Of course, Frisk," Toriel answered. The rest of the dinner was even more awkward than before. Even Papyrus made no attempt at small talk. Frisk pushed her food around on the plate, her stomach in her feet. She didn't want to stop working with the skeletons, but she also knew that she should do what Toriel wanted. Toriel was the boss, and Frisk was just a member of the family. No one special. An employee paid in food, shelter, and the feeling of family. Sans kept looking at Frisk, but she kept her head down.

When dinner finished, Toriel and Frisk met in her office. Frisk closed the door behind them, standing across from the goat monster in the dimly lit room. Various papers were scattered around, which was unusual for the organized Toriel. Frisk felt the anger and frustration pulsing under her skin, aching to get out. Toriel looked at her expectantly.

"What is it, Frisk? Spit it out."

"You're asking me to work with a monster who just tried to kill me, Toriel. You're asking me to trust someone who just yesterday had their hands around my throat - quite literally. In just a day, he's completely replaced me. Two years ago, you declared war over a simple gunshot wound. But the moment Asriel comes back to you, you just give him the benefit of the doubt. You haven't seen him in years, in over a decade. Yet he somehow is more trustworthy than I am. I don't want to work with your son, Toriel. I don't want to be some simple pawn in a game of chess." Toriel held up a hand.

"You really think he's replaced you? In one single day?"

"It sure feels like that. He is your biological son, Toriel. He is  _yours_. It seems like I was just a replacement until he came back." Toriel scoffed. "You'd rather have him here than me. You'd rather he be the one in the warehouse, all these years. I never wanted to admit it to myself, but I was just a replacement for the son you lost. Listen here, Toriel. I have never been your son. I have been a human girl you used to replace the children you lost."

"Frisk. Don't you dare say that. None of that is true."

"None of it? Are you sure?" The bitterness crept into Frisk's voice, making it brittle and sharp.

"I adopted you because you were in need. I love you, just like I love Asriel, just like I loved Chara. You're as much my child as Asriel is. As Chara was. There is not a difference between any of you. Do you want to know why I've been so eager to spend time with Asriel since he returned?" Frisk didn't answer. "I haven't seen Asriel since he was small. About a year before you came to us. I thought he was dead. Of course I want to spend time with him. I see you every day, Frisk. I don't get to see him as often. I'm trying to catch up on years of missed parenting. Doesn't that make any sense to you?"

"But why stick him with me? He tried to kill me, Toriel. Are we just completely ignoring that fact?"

"He apologized, Frisk."

"Because that makes it better? Look at me, Toriel. Look at me." Toriel looked, the bruises on Frisk's neck still clear and evident. "Your son did that to me. Partners are supposed to trust each other. I can't trust him. I will not work with him."

"Frisk, your skill would be good for him."

"Clearly, he already has skill. Let me stick with Sans. Let Papyrus take Asriel." Toriel looked at Frisk, a hint of pleading in her eyes. Frisk turned on her heel, leaving Toriel alone in her office. Frisk went to her bedroom, pulling on a clean suit. She wrapped her hair, waiting for the usual call Sans made, telling everyone he was going to Grillby's. As she pinned her hair into a bun, she heard Sans at the door.

"I'm going to Grillby's!" he called in his deep bass. Frisk walked quickly out of her room. Sans turned, looking up at the human girl. She looked sharp in her suit, almost as though each one she wore were made for her. "What's going on, kiddo?"

"I'm coming with you," Frisk said. "You don't have to call me kiddo anymore, you know that, right?"

"Whatever you say, kiddo." Sans and Frisk walked out the door to Grillby's.

* * *

"Hey, Frisk, wake up," Sans said, standing over Frisk's bed. She looked like death, and as her eyes peeled open, Sans could see the obvious hangover in her eyes. Frisk's mouth tasted like a cemetery.

"What happened?" Frisk asked, her voice hoarse from alcohol and vomit.

"Well, you got so drunk you passed out. And I think you learned something," Sans answered, helping Frisk sit up. Frisk's head was throbbing.

"Yeah. I learned I hate alcohol," Frisk said, putting her head in her hands. She was out of commission for the day, that was clear. Sans patted her on the back and stood, heading out into New York City to do his job. The memory of Frisk getting drunk over a boy burned in his brains, and he had learned something, too.

_No matter how hard it may be, Sans would protect Frisk from Asriel. At all costs._

 


	10. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 weeks after Asriel's return.

"Kid, you can't just stick with me. I work with my brother. You know that, right?" Sans asked Frisk as they walked home from a job. Frisk grunted in response. "Come on, you're the smartest person in the family. You'd be great to train him. And he's closer to your age," Sans looked up at Frisk's cold face. "Frisk, you can't possibly think working with me is going to work for the rest of your life. I may be a monster, but I'm not immortal." Frisk stopped dead in her tracks, swallowing thickly.

"Don't talk like that, Sans."

"It's true, kiddo. I'm just being honest."

"Sans. Stop talking like that."

"And why should I?" Frisk couldn't answer. She couldn't imagine her life without Sans, much less losing him quickly. "Tell Papyrus I'm at Grillby's," Sans said, turning away from Frisk about a block from the warehouse. As he walked away, Frisk sighed. The drinking hadn't gotten better, especially now with Sans and Papyrus seperated on jobs. A part of Frisk felt bad about that, because it was her fault that the brothers were no longer working together. Another part of Frisk had stopped caring, though. As long as she wasn't working with Asriel, everything would be okay.

Frisk stepped inside the warehouse, where she promptly bumped into Asriel. The bruises splaying across her throat had faded, but she still felt a rise of warmth when she saw him. The part of Frisk that felt bad about Sans and Papyrus also felt bad about Asriel, wanted to get to know him better. The part of Frisk that had stopped caring felt nothing. The part of Frisk that still felt things blushed brightly as Asriel mumbled a  _sorry_ as he passed. Frisk kept her head down and her mouth closed, ignoring the goat monster.

"Human? Are you home?" Papyrus called down the hallway. He laid eyes on her and smiled. Frisk could tell he was searching for Sans next to her. "Where is my brother, human?"

"Grillby's. I assume he'll be there the rest of the night," Frisk answered, hanging up her coat. Papyrus' jaw made a clicking noise as he worked it, the same way Toriel clicked her tongue at crosswords she did. "I'll be reading if you need me." Frisk walked to her room, itching for a good mystery. She left her door slightly cracked open and settled onto her bed, quickly getting into her most recent book.

A soft knock hit on her doorframe right as she was about to learn who the murderer. Frisk had already figured it out a few chapters before, but she wanted to make sure she was correct. Her eyes continued to scan the pages, waiting for the big reveal of the murderer. The knock came again, and Frisk ignored it once more. She finished the book, satisfied in knowing that she was right in who the killer had been. For a third time, someone knocked on her door, just as she closed her book.

"Frisk?" Asriel's voice asked, and Frisk sighed under her breath. She had done a fairly good job at avoiding her assailant, but every once in a while, it came to this. Frisk stood, straightening her suit jacket, and opened the door. "There you are. I was starting to worry," Frisk cut him off.

"What do you need, Asriel?" Frisk caught a whiff of licorice, and bit her tongue. As much as she hated to admit it, she loved the smell of licorice - especially the fact that it reminded her of Asriel.

"Uhm, Mom said that she needed me to run an errand, and that uhm, you could help me," Asriel said, his cheeks turning bright pink. Asriel's large green eyes couldn't meet Frisk's. He truly regretted hurting her, and he wished there was a way to take it back.

"What errand?" Frisk asked, clicking her tongue on the back of her teeth.

"I need to go to a pawn shop... Meet with a monster named Gerson?" Asriel's soft voice was growing even softer. For the first time, Frisk noticed that he was shy. Asriel's hands were fidgeting with the edges of his pants, and Frisk sighed. Where there was Gerson, there was Temmie.

"Prepare yourself," Frisk said, turning around and picking up her handgun. She didn't carry it always, but meeting with Tem and Gerson would  _not_ be a knife fight. "Let me do the talking." Frisk shrugged on her jacket and slid the gun into its holster. Asriel quietly followed Frisk out of the warehouse, and he caught up to her in strides. He had small horns, not curling like his father, but not underdeveloped. Asriel was taller than Frisk by a few inches, and he was slender but strong. "Have you ever met Gerson or Temmie?"

"I don't think so," Asriel answered, keeping his eyes on his feet.

"Gerson's an older monster. He looks a lot like a tortise," Frisk said, much to Asriel's confusion. "A tortise?" Asriel didn't respond. "Anyway, Tem's pretty small. And violent. She's younger. They run the place together, because Tem is terrible at pricing and Gerson can't do things for himself in his age. Its a cautious, mutual relationship."

"So, an older monster and a younger monster. What's the big deal about it?"

"You'll see. Just let me do the talking." The two came to the pawn shop, and Frisk paused. "What do you even need?"

"A gun," Asriel answered, his nerves evident. Asriel was shy and rather new to the family, but his nerves made him adorable. Frisk hated the thought. She nodded and pushed the door open. A small bell jingled against the door, and Asriel followed Frisk inside. Gerson wasn't in the front, and Temmie sat at a tall stool behind the counter. She had long grey hair, and a pair of perky ears coming up from the parts in it. Another pair of large, circular ears came out from the sides of her head, kind of like a mouse. Her fur was white, and she looked a bit like a dog mixed with a cat. Frisk knew that she was cute, but if someone told her that, Tem would probably attempt to kill them.

"Hoi!" Temmie called, not looking up from her newspaper.

"I need to talk to Gerson, Tem," Frisk said. Temmie looked up and saw Frisk. A smile exploded across her small, slender face. Frisk smiled back, caution evident in her chocolate eyes.

"Sure thing!!" Temmie was chipper, as usual. "Gerson!!! The human's here for you!!" Temmie hollered back. "Who's your friend?!?"

"I'm Asriel. Can I just saw that I think you're adorable?" Frisk wanted to punch him right there. A growl escaped Temmie's throat, and there was suddenly a very large gun in her small hands. Frisk could feel the anxiety rolling off of the goat monster like sweat.  _Shit._

"I am not cute!" Temmie shouted, a sharp edge to her high voice. "Do I look cute to you? Do I?" Tem aimed her gun straight at Asriel's chest. "Answer me! Am I cute?" Asriel started to stammer out an answer, but Gerson cut him off as he came out of the back room.

"Tem, put the gun down, for Christ's sake." Gerson's voice was old and hoarse, lived in. "These are our guests." Temmie begrudgingly put down the large gun, and I stepped forward. "What can I do ya for, Frisk?"

"This idiot," Frisk said, motioning to Asriel, "needs a gun." Gerson nodded, his wrinkled skin moving with the slow motion. Tem let a high pitched growl come from her throat, aimed clearly at Asriel, and placed her large gun back under the counter. These were customers, after all.

"Follow me," Gerson said with a hoarse, lived- in voice, beckoning with his long, wrinkled claw. His skin was dark green, faded with age and covered in brownish spots. Gerson had a large shell that hung off of him like a large overcoat. He wore a tan shirt and a loose pair of dark brown trousers, which were held up with a large black belt. On his head was a fedora, faded and beat in just like the rest of his clothing. Frisk motioned to Asriel for him to follow her, and walked slowly behind the aged monster. He walked with a limp, carrying around a cane that he put quite a bit of weight on.

Gerson was an old monster, and his back room was like a small home. There was a large bookcase stuffed full of things, and a small stove that lit up with gas. Frisk could remember being a child and coming to Gerson's with Undyne to hear his stories. He was a solider, he had fought in the American Civil War when he was a young monster. He had fought for the Union, the northern side of the war. Many monsters had fought and died for the Northerners, but it was often not told in human classes. Frisk could remember that in the south, monsters were kept just like African American slaves. When they were not performing as much as they could, owners would beat them to death and use their dust to fertilize the crops. The thought made a shiver run down Frisk's spine.

"I'll make some tea," Gerson said, hobbling over to the small stove. Frisk smiled at him. Asriel kept his mouth shut. The stove started up, and Frisk could hear the water beginning to bubble in the teakettle. "What kind of gun are we looking for, son?" Gerson asked, his voice thin. Frisk pulled her gun out of its holster and set it on the table. It was a small handgun with fancy detailing carved into the handle. Frisk loved the gun, even though she preferred knives. They were closer, more personal, and much easier to hurt someone without killing someone.

"A handgun. Like mine," Frisk said briskly. Even though Frisk was comfortable with Gerson, she chose to stay professional around Asriel. He was older than she was, but she felt like she was more of an adult.

"Let me look in the back." Gerson waddled to the bookshelf, placing a long claw on the top of one of the books. He stroked the spine lovingly, feeling the cracks in the spine's leather. Gerson then pulled it back, and a loud click filled the room. The bookshelf swung outward, nearly grazing the table near the three of them. "Frisk, my girl, would you mind pouring the tea?" The kettle whistled, and Frisk smiled widely.

"Of course, Mr. Gerson," Frisk said, walking to the stove and getting some mugs down from a small cupboard. She put a tea bag in each mug and poured the boiling liquid over them. Gerson shuffled through the weapons room, his heavy feet making a lot of noise as he searched for a handgun. Frisk carried a mug to Asriel, and set one down for Gerson. She sipped her own, sitting down across from the goat monster. He watched her with curiosity in his green eyes. Frisk avoided his eyes. Something about her felt like butterflies, like a small spark had awoken that she had never felt before.

"Here you go, son," Gerson said, handing Asriel a handgun. It was black and practical, not beautiful like Frisk's. Asriel took it carefully, his hands shaking. Frisk could tell he was afraid of the gun.  _What had happened to him in the years since Toriel had seen him last?_ Frisk had a feeling she didn't want to know.

They drank tea in mostly silence, Gerson telling stories of the war. Asriel held back flinches, and Frisk drank slowly. She had heard the stories all before, knew thier horror and victory. When the tea was gone and the stories were all dry, Frisk thanked Gerson for the gun and paid him in cash. Asriel stared at her, quietly in awe with the human girl standing in front of her. As they walked out, Temmie growled once more at Asriel, but the sound was laced with affection. As they left, Tem shouted after them, her chipper voice returned to normal.

"Boi!" she called, waving after them. As they exited, a groups of Temmies surrounded the pawn shop's door. Frisk pushed them carefully aside, trying not to injure any of the small monsters. Asriel couldn't help himself.

"They're all just so cute!" Without a word, Frisk picked him up and slung him over her shoulder. The Tems growled up at them, and one drew a gun at the two of them. Frisk placed her foot on the gun, pushing it back down to where it couldn't do any damage.

"Gun away, Bob. Thanks," Frisk said, walking away from the pawn shop. Closer to the warehouse, Asriel was still being carried by Frisk. She had told him to let her do the talking, but did he listen? Of course not. Asriel struggled against the girl's strong grip.

"You can put me down now," he said, trying to break free.

"Nope. You might do something stupid," Frisk answered, carrying him to the warehouse. "I told you to let me do the talking. I hope you've learned a lesson today."

"What, that you're stronger than the average human girl?" Frisk scoffed at Asriel's comment.

"No, that you never  _ever_ call a Tem cute," Frisk answered.

* * *

"Did you get what you needed?" Toriel's kind voice asked Asriel. Frisk had put him down once they were inside the warehouse, and gone back to her room. Maybe being partnered with Asriel wouldn't be terrible, as long as he could follow instructions and stay out of trouble.  _Fat chance._ The conversation between the two monsters faded out of earshot, and Frisk laid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. There were some things that Frisk hadn't gotten used to yet. She was lonely, the only human in a whole family of monsters. At night, when it was dark, in between the nightmares, the lonliness gnawed at Frisk like hunger.

The world spun a bit, and Frisk pretended that she was staring at the muggy stars above Manhattan instead of her ceiling. Exhaustion was settling into her bones like an old comfort. Frisk closed her eyes, letting her bed cradle her into sleep. Her eyes fluttered under their lids, and as soon as her breathing slowed, the nightmares began. They streaked across her mind like headlights in the dark, and with each death or word spoken and shown, Frisk flinched. A whimper came from her lips, dying in the quiet air of her room.

Frisk slept restlessly for a few hours, but when a nightmare finally woke her, she realized she was still wearing the suit she had been wearing. It was crumpled and one of the pants legs was creeping up her leg, exposing the pale skin underneath. Frisk rubbed the sleep from her eyes, too afraid to go back to sleep. They were always the same, but different at the same time. Sometimes, Frisk could feel hands around her throat. Other times, the man who had tried to kill her was doing what he would have done had he captured her. She was convinced that he would have raped her had Sans not come. Frisk ran a shaky hand through her long hair and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her grey pinstripe suit.

Quietly, Frisk crept from her room down the hallway. A soft blue glow came from Sans' room, and Frisk figured it must be after Grillby's closing time if Sans was home. There wasn't a day in the year that he didn't go to the bar. It worried Frisk, but she had learned to keep her mouth shut when it came to the drinking. He was sober for jobs, and that's what he said was important. Frisk bit her tongue at the thought, peeking in Sans' door. The skeleton slept restlessly, the air around the room scented heavily with whiskey and fear. Sans tossed and turned, the sheets twined around his bone legs and feet. Blue flames licked at his eyesocket, and Frisk felt a prickle of worry on the nape of her neck.

Sans' breathing grew heavy, and his eyes popped open, blue flame growing nearly the size of his head. Frisk pulled herself past the doorway so the skeleton wouldn't see her, pacing herself to the sound of his breath. She heard his feet hit the floor heavily, and she zipped to the end of the hall, which was shrouded in darkness. Frisk hid in the shadows as Sans shakily walked to the kitchen. Frisk could hear the familiar sound of a whiskey bottle opening, and a few minutes later, Sans walked back to his room, still nursing a nearly empty bottle of booze. Frisk swallowed, and as soon as the skeleton was back in his room, she turned and stepped out of the warehouse.

The night air of Manhattan chilled Frisk, but it also felt good against her skin. She inhaled deeply, her hands still shaking. It must have been past midnight, because even in the city that seemed to never sleep, it was quiet. A thousand things were racing through her mind.  _Sans talking of death, Toriel ignoring her, Papyrus and Sans seperated. Asriel._ Frisk swallowed as she came upon the building she had slept on top of a few weeks before, Asriel's first night in the warehouse. It would feel good to be on that rooftop again, to feel the cool night air blowing her hair around her face like a whirlwind. Frisk began to climb, the thoughts still racing through her head.

Once she was at the top of the building, she sat on the edge and stared up at the night sky. It felt like there was infinite space both above her and below her, the only connection she had to stop her from flying was the ledge of the rooftop she sat upon. Pinpricks of starlight pierced the foggy fabric sky, and Frisk felt like each of them were eyes, watching her from above. Sometimes, it felt like the stars were the only people who could understand her, although she had people in the family that would listen to her in a heartbeat. Frisk swung her legs against the red bricks, relishing in the soft thud of her heels against the wall.

 _Sans should be with Papyrus,_ Frisk thought. She couldn't keep him away from his brother forever. It would be hard, considering Asriel was a naive prick, but the brothers deserved to work together. They had been together all of their lives, Frisk was just the addition.  _The odd one out._ Frisk had made her decision, thinking of the whiskey bottle Sans had been nursing that night. Her stomach fluttered with worry, and Frisk realized that she was cold in the Manhattan night. Carefully, she swung her legs back to the solid part of the roof, standing and heading to the fire escape. The feeling of being surrounded by infinity was gone, and Frisk missed it in a way. For a moment, as she swung herself onto the fire escape, Frisk wondered what it would feel like to free fall from the height, to be completely weightless. She quickly shook the thought from her mind and climbed down, heading back to the warehouse. She would tell her decision to Toriel and the skeleton brothers in the morning.

* * *

"Are you sure, my child?" Toriel asked, looking down her nose at the human. Frisk stared back, her jaw set. Determination flared in her dark brown eyes, and she nodded briskly. "Alright. I'll tell the skeletons and Asriel." Toriel's heels clicked from the room, and Frisk let her posture fall. There was not a part of her that wanted to work with Toriel's son, the memory of him trying to kill her. From what Frisk could gather, he hadn't been a part of any families before, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After a few minutes, Frisk walked out of Toriel's office, having regained her composure, and walked to the kitchen. The family was seated around the table, Sans and Papyrus joking over coffee, Asriel eating some fruit salad quietly, and Alphys with a sketchbook, barely touching her plate. Toriel stood at the stove, making pancakes and humming to herself. Alphys rubbed a scaly hand across her spines and ripped a page from her sketchbook in frustration. Frisk sat down next to her, carefully tapping her shoulder.

"Alphys? Are you okay?" Frisk asked softly, trying to calm the small monster and also not bring attention to her. Sans would surely loudly question, and Papyrus would worry himself to the marrow. Asriel seemed as lost in his own world as Alphys was, but Frisk didn't dare try to deal with him. Alphys looked quickly up at Frisk, her small eyes scurrying around the room. They settled on Frisk, and Frisk could see the anxiety and stress underneath the colored iris.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Alphys asked hurriedly, covering the sketch on the notebook. Numbers covered the edges, like she was building some sort of machine.

"You haven't eaten anything," Frisk commented, noting the full plate next to Alphys. The small lizard monster looked at the plate and sighed, pushing it away.

"I'm not hungry."

"Alphys..." Frisk started, but the monster blocked her out and went back to sketching. Frisk sighed, deciding that for the time being it would be better to leave her alone. She stood, trying to get a peek at what Alphys was drawing. The small monster turned to look at the design, and Frisk saw it in full sight. It looked like a robot, like something from a science fiction novel. It was male in form, with metal hair and a shiny metal face. It wore a suit, and it seemed to be rather tall, judging by the numbers and math problems written next to it. Underneath it, it Alphys' scientific chicken scratch, was something written. Frisk tried to make it out, but it looked like only three capital letters, underlined darkly.  _MTT._

"So, I hear you decided to let me work with you," Asriel said softly, his large green eyes looking up at Frisk. She tore herself from the drawing, looking at the young goat monster. He couldn't be much older than her, maybe two years at best. Frisk nodded. "Why? What made you change your mind?" Frisk swallowed, looking over at Sans and Papyrus. It was the first time Frisk had seen them joking with each other since she had refused to work with Asriel. It was the first time she had seen Sans really smiling in a very long time. A small ache flickered in her heart for a moment, and Frisk looked back at Asriel. His eyes were patient and expecting an answer.

"It was the right thing to do," she said, sitting down quietly. Asriel nodded, turning back to his food. Frisk knew that she should eat, but she wasn't hungry. She sat at the table, watching the monsters around her. Alphys continued to do math and sketch, Asriel continued to eat, and Toriel kept making pancakes. Papyrus laughed at something Sans said, probably a story as opposed to a joke, and Sans chuckled with him, turning his head to Frisk. There was a large smile on his face, but when he locked eyes with her, it faded just a little, just enough for him to mouth something at her.

_Thanks, kid._


	11. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four days later.

"Frisk! Frisk!" Alphys waddled hurriedly behind her, tugging at Frisk's coat arm and nearly tripping over her stained lab coat. "I need a favor."

"What do you need?" Frisk asked, stopping Asriel, who was walking beside her. They were supposed to be out scouting for various monsters to interrogate on the whereabouts of Asgore. He hadn't been very active on the Manhattan streets since about a month before Asriel had come into the family, and Toriel was starting to have them look. Frisk supposed that Toriel thought he had run away from the war she had started. Frisk figured he was just planning some big attack. No one could know for sure unless they found him though.

"I need you and Asriel to come to the theatre with me. I need you to sing, Frisk." Frisk was taken aback. She sung sometimes when she was alone, but she had never sung for other monsters or people, and she definitely not good enough to perform at the  _Ghost Theatre._  

"Alphys, I could never..." Frisk started, but Alphys cut in.

"Please, Frisk. I have to talk to Mettaton, and he needs someone to cover his show. Please, it means a lot to me," Alphys said, wringing her hands. Frisk sighed in resignation.

"Okay. I'll sing. Let's go," Frisk said, starting for the door.

"You can't perform in a suit! You're a girl!" Alphys nearly screeched, tugging Frisk back. "You need to wear a dress!" Alphys pulled Frisk and Asriel down to the basement, where she showed Frisk a dress. It had a grey- silver fabric that covered most of it, and looking at it, Frisk knew it would fall a bit past knees. A pair of stockings hung underneath it, thin and sheer to cover her legs. Silver beading covered the center and waist, the beading traveling up the chest and down the front of the dress. "I found this one for you."

"Alphys, I can't," Frisk said, but Asriel looked at her sharply. There was something in his green eyes, something like a smile. Frisk sighed. "You're going to owe me a huge favor, Alphys." Alphys smiled, nodding vigorously and leading Frisk to a small screened- off section where she could get into the dress without being seen by Asriel. She pulled her suit off and slipped into the stockings and then the dress. Alphys buttoned the back and made sure that the whole thing laid correctly.

"Napstablook will do your hair when we get there," Alphys said, handing Frisk a fancy coat and a pair of heels. Frisk ground her teeth and put them on. She was almost as tall as Asriel with them on, which was an accomplishment. Even though both Toriel and Asgore towered over most of the other monsters Frisk had met, Asriel seemed to be smaller than them. Frisk attributed that to his street life and malnourishment. Once he was well- fed, she was sure he would catch up with his parents and shoot above her even farther. Frisk pulled the coat on, buttoning it up to hide the dress. Other than the fact that a small section of her legs were exposed, Frisk felt like the dress was well hidden. There was no way she was being caught dead in it.

With a little help from Alphys, Frisk stepped out from behind the screen and into Asriel's viewsight. Other than her exposed legs and fancier coat, she looked about the same to Asriel. Alphys smiled up at the two of them, and Frisk could see her imagining the two of them together in her mind. She wanted to sigh again, but with Asriel there, she didn't want to act like she wasn't professional.

"We'll take a taxi. I have something that I can't carry that I need to take," Alphys said nervously. "Asriel, could you carry it to the car?" Asriel nodded, and Alphys showed him to a large box. It was about half the size of Asriel, and as he picked it up, Frisk could tell that it was heavy. She made a move to help him, but nearly tripped over her own feet in the heels. Under the weight, Asriel laughed. Frisk glared daggers at him, and he quieted, walking up the stairs after Alphys. Frisk felt like a newborn deer as she wobbled up the stairs after Asriel.

When they made it to the taxi, Asriel helped Frisk inside. She gratefully took his arm, for a moment forgetting that she didn't truly trust him. The two hadn't been working together for very long, and already they were working behind Toriel's back. Something felt very off to Frisk, but she kept her mouth shut and closed the taxi door behind her.

"The  _Ghost Theatre_ ," Alphys told the driver, and the taxi bustled down the street, carrying them to the theatre. It had been a long time since Frisk had been, and it looked like it had been a while since Asriel had been, too. Frisk wondered if he had just snuck in the day they had unknowingly met. When the taxi cab stopped, Napstablook was waiting outside of the theatre, and he floated carefully to the trunk. Alphys got out of the taxi first, paying the driver and thanking him. She helped the blue ghost carry the box inside. Frisk climbed out, trying not to fall as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Asriel followed her out and offered her an arm.

"I don't need help, Mr. Dreemurr," Frisk said, turning away from Asriel. She took a step and nearly spilled over. Asriel raced and caught her, staring at her with his large, caring green eyes.

"You're going to break an ankle in those things. Let me help you," Asriel said, but Frisk pulled herself up and out of his grasp.

"No thank you. I can do it." Frisk shakily walked to the door, nearly falling about every three steps. Asriel walked behind her, ready to catch her, but he didn't dare when she actually fell. Asriel knew that Frisk didn't trust him, and even though he regretted trying to kill her, she wouldn't hear him out. Frisk was the epitome of professionalism, a total badass.  _A total catch._ Asriel swished the thought away and raced to hold the door open for the wobbly human. She smiled with thanks, her brown eyes still sharp with mistrust.

Napstablook was waiting in the lobby for Frisk. A small smile came to the ghost's blue face, and Frisk returned it happily. Napstablook had always been her favorite of the ghost cousins, although she hadn't met either of them very often. He was a lot more mellow than Mettaton, and he didn't have the temper that they spoke of their other cousin having. Frisk had never met the orange ghost they spoke of, but it didn't seem to her like she wanted to.

"Follow me, Frisk. Uhm, sir, you can go get an early seat in the theatre." Napstablook took Frisk's hand in his ghostly one. It didn't have much form, but that was okay with Frisk. Napstablook had always seemed a bit like a little kid to Frisk, and she had always treated him as an innocent. Asriel went into the theatre, looking back at Frisk for a moment too long. There was something between them, something that neither of them quite wanted to admit, but it was there. "Do you know what you're singing?"

"I didn't even know I was singing until today, Napstablook. I know some simple songs, and one Mettaton sang here a few years ago." Napstablook nodded, and led Frisk to a small dressing room. She unbuttoned her coat on his command and pulled it off, revealing the sparkling dress. Napstablook smiled and floated behind her, taking her hair carefully out of its braid. She had braided it after her bath, so it was still slightly wet inbetween the thick layers. When the braid was out of Frisk's long hair, the blue ghost ran a brush through it, making the waves all lay together.

"I'll follow your lead, then," Napstablook said, pushing a chair behind Frisk and gently sitting her in it. "I'm going to put a little makeup on you, if that's all right," Napstablook added, his small blue body floating in front of Frisk. She sighed and nodded, closing her eyes. Napstablook got to work, putting some rogue on her cheeks and shadow on her eyelids. He used a small brush to add some mascara to her eyelashes, making them longer and darker than they had been before. After a few dabs of light lipstick, Napstablook tapped Frisk on the shoulder, turning her towards a mirror on the wall. "Ta da! Do you like it?"

Frisk looked at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were colored, not badly, but it looked like she was embarrassed. Her eyelids were darker, which didn't look bad, but different. Her eyelashes were long, and she could feel them brushing against the edges of her brow. Her lips were colored and looked fuller, and the more Frisk looked, the harder it was to recognize herself. Her hair was wavy and long, not at all how she usually wore it. Napstablook had added a few gems to it while he had done her makeup, making them sparkle even in the dimly lit dressing room.

"Oh. It's time to perforrm..." Napstablook said, floating to the door and opening it for Frisk. She stood, wobbling a bit, and walked to the door, thanking the small blue ghost with a nod. Napstablook led the way to the back of the stage, Frisk following with her clicking heels. Napstablook held a ghostly hand behind him, and Frisk knew what he meant.  _Wait._ Frisk stood patiently, her fingers rubbing the fabric of her skirt together. She was wracked with nerves, knowing that she hadn't sung in front of people before. Quietly, she practiced, wondering what Napstablook was doing up on the stage. Just as the thought crossed her mind though, she soon knew.

"And now, please welcome to our stage the guest singer for today, the human girl Frisk!" A smattering of applause rose from the theatre, and Asriel watched as Frisk walked up the stairs. She nearly tripped, but she caught herself and made her way to the microphone. Frisk looked out on the crowd, but the theatre was dark. She smiled, and Asriel's heart skipped a beat from his seat in the auidence. He hadn't noticed it before, with her constant avoidance of him, but Frisk was beautiful. Her hair glimmered in the light, and the dress she wore fit her perfectly. Frisk nodded shyly at Napstablook, and his ghostly fingers hit the keys on the piano. The sound filled the room, and Asriel settled into his chair. Frisk stood on the stage, holding the microphone in her hand like she had seen Mettaton do before. Her lips grazed the cold metal, and she began to sing.

Frisk's voice filled the theatre, rich and alto against the soft piano. Asriel couldn't hold back the gasp that came from his chest. Her voice was absolutely beautiful. There was a hint of rasp in it that didn't come out when she spoke, but it was clearly a damaged voice that had repaired itself wonderfully. She sang simple songs for the show, hits that everyone in the theatre knew. A few sitting around Asriel hummed along. The more she sang, the more comfortable Frisk became on the stage. She closed her eyes, letting her voice kiss the microphone along with her painted lips. Frisk swayed a bit as she sang, not unattractively, and the sparkling beads sewn into her dress shone across the theatre like miniature mirrors. Asriel smiled at her closed eyes, lips-opened expression, so beautiful in its simplicity. There was no way to explain the warmth he suddenly felt in his chest. He knew he would have to ask one of the skeleton brothers about it later. Asriel had been working with Papyrus before Frisk had agreed to be his partner, maybe it would be wise to ask him. Either that or his mother.

The show ended after a while, and Asriel was sad to see Frisk walk off the stage, a soft smile still gracing her painted lips. Frisk couldn't have been happier to leave the stage. Without the microphone to hold onto, her hands shook like leaves in the autumn wind. Alphys was waiting behind the stage, wringing her yellow claws together.

"It didn't work. I'm going to need you to perform here for a while longer, Frisk," Alphys said, looking up. Her beady eyes darted with anxiety, and Frisk sighed. "Just one show a day, until I can get something to work. It'll be your new job, covering for Mettaton until I can finish what I'm doing."

"What about Asriel?" Frisk asked briskly, more annoyed at the extra burden of her partner than concerned of his potential boredom. She didn't realize he had walked up behind her.

"I'll watch the show every day. You sing beautifully, Frisk," Asriel said, his hand brushing hers. A spark of something raced up Frisk's arm, and while it was pleasant, Frisk pulled her hand away on instinct. Asriel could see the blush rising, and he smiled to himself.

* * *

That night, when Frisk was reading alone in her room, Asriel knocked on Papyrus' door. It had been hours since the show, but just knowing that Frisk was still within hearing distance made Asriel still feel warm. Every breath he took felt warm and happy, something he had never felt before. Inside of the warehouse, surrounded by the odd collection of skeletons, aquatic monsters, the human girl, and his own mother, Asriel felt like he was at home. Papyrus opened the door, surprise clear on his skull at seeing Asriel at his door.

"Well this is a surprise. Uh, come in!" Papyrus opened the door, motioning Asriel inside. Asriel stepped inside, and Papyrus closed the door behind him. A knife sharpening stone sat on Papyrus' desk, and a large set of knives lay next to it, all of their blades glinting. "What can I help you with?" Papyrus asked, hooking his long, skeletal thumbs in his suspenders. Asriel nervously paced.

"I have this...feeling. I can't explain it," Asriel said softly, even softer than usual. The tips of his long ears were turning pink.

"Is it a bad feeling?" Papyrus asked, scratching his skull. Asriel shook his head.

"It's warm." Papyrus made a small noise of confusion. Asriel continued. "It's happy. I think it's good. It feels right." Asriel paused, looking up at Papyrus. The skeleton had long eyesockets, no pupils, and a happy expression on his face. Now, he looked confused. Asriel's large eyes held something Papyrus had seen and felt many times, but had no word for. It seemed like Asriel had found the words, because he told Papyrus softly, like it was a secret he wasn't meant to share. Something he was meant to keep to himself, a secret truth to the meaning of life. "It feels like home," he whispered, almost inaudible. Papyrus nodded, taking his hands out of his suspenders and taking Asriel by the shoulders.

"Talk to your mother," he said, and Asriel nodded. His grass green eyes were full of something, something that Papyrus recognized from Toriel, and the way that Alphys looked at Undyne. The way Undyne looked at Alphys. Papyrus opened the door for Asriel, who stepped out into the hall. Papyrus went back to sharpening his knives.

* * *

Frisk continued to perform for a week, giving about the same show every day. Asriel was awestruck every time. Frisk's singing voice was unlike anything he had ever heard before. No monster could sing like that. No human he had ever heard, either. Alphys had told Asriel that when Frisk was sixteen, she had nearly died. It had changed her voice permanently, including her singing voice. In a way, Asriel was glad it had changed, because now he understood what the rasp came from. Frisk grew more comfortable on the stage, moving about with purpose and letting her lips caress the microphone like a lover.

After a week and a half of Frisk performing, Alphys was worked to the bone. She didn't seem to sleep, only work on whatever she was doing for Mettaton. Frisk didn't understand what she was doing, mostly because it was so hidden from her. She did remember the drawing of the metal man, and as the boxes piled up and the evidence clicked into place, Frisk realized what Alphys was doing. Mettaton had never had a body, he had always been a ghost. Alphys was building Mettaton a body for his soul to inhabit, a metal robotic body that would be everything he had ever desired. Clearly, it had not quite been going as planned, or Frisk and Asriel would have been back out in the feild by now.

One day, after a performance, Alphys stopped Frisk backstage. The bags under her eyes seemed to be heavier than all the muscles on her body, but somehow, Alphys was still standing. The small monster wore a grin the size of the Statue of Liberty's, and Frisk realized that the body must be finished.

"Tomorrow will be your last performance, Frisk!" Alphys said excitedly, nearly tripping over the words. Frisk smiled, patting the lizard monster on the head.

"Okay. Thank you for finishing what you were doing as quickly as possible, Alphys," Frisk said, running her slightly shaking hands through her hair. Although she was more comfortable singing, she still shook after the shows.

"I tried my best," Alphys said, and Asriel showed up behind the two.

"Frisk, may I have a word with you?" he asked, touching her shoulder lightly. The same pleasant spark shot through Frisk, and she turned to him, pulling slightly away.

"Um, of course, partner." Frisk nodded a short goodbye to Alphys and led Asriel to the dressing room. It was empty save for the chair and mirror. "What do you need to discuss?"

"I couldn't help but hear we'll be back in the field after tomorrow," Asriel said, and Frisk nodded. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me exactly what being partners entails."

"Being someone's partner is more than a title. You and I are title partners, that's all. Do you understand?" Frisk said, crossing her arms. Even after having worked with him for over a week, Frisk still didn't trust Asriel. She didn't know him well enough to trust him, he hadn't proved that he was good at anything but listening to her sing.

"What would becoming a full partner include?"

"Trust."

"Do you not trust me, Frisk?" A slight edge crept into Asriel's voice.

"Why should I trust you?"

"I'm Toriel's son."

"Does that make you trustworthy?" Frisk paused, watching as Asriel's eyebrow raised. "Toriel's ex husband shot me. Why should her son be any different?"

"I am not my father," Asriel responded incrediously.

"Do I know that? You haven't proven to me otherwise. You haven't proven anything to me."

"I haven't shot you!"

"But that doesn't mean you couldn't!"

"Are you implying that it's my full intent to try to kill you?"

"Let's review, upon your first actual encounter with me, you did in fact, try to choke me to death."

"You knew I was walking behind you. I had finally figured out where one of my parents was, I wasn't about to give that up!"

"So you chose to  _kill_ the person who knew your mother instead of asking her?"

"It was not well thought through."

"Clearly." Frisk said, glaring knives at Asriel. "How can I be sure that you're not just waiting to finish the job?"

"Finish the job? You're my partner, why the hell would I try to kill you?"

"I don't know. You don't seem to have a clear reason as to why you attempted to do so in the first place."

"How can I make you trust me?"

"Can you go back in time and not try to kill me?"

"Well, no," Asriel said, his voice softening.

"Then I'm not entirely sure you can."

"That's absurd, Frisk! That's like saying it's impossible."

"It is impossible. New York being cold in summer, walking on the moon, and me trusting you are all on the list of impossible things."

"I'll prove you wrong."

"You do that, Asriel. You do that." With that, Frisk stalked out of the room, her heels clicking just like Toriel's. Asriel watched her go, feeling the warmth leave him.  _He had to prove her wrong, had to make her trust him._

* * *

It was Frisk's final performance. Her lips kissed the microphone with every word, the piano beneath Napstablook's ghostly blue fingers an old friend and comfort. Asriel sat in the audience, watching Frisk's every move with fascination. Frisk's eyes were closed, as they usually were when she sang. She wore the same sparkling dress as she had on the day of her first performance, and it lit the room with a glitter that matched her voice. The song ended, and the show would have ended too, but Frisk stopped people from standing with a graceful motion of her slender hand. On the stage, although she was out of her usual element, she seemed that she had found another perfect place to exist. Both the stage and the poker table were home to Frisk, along with the rooftop and streets of Manhattan.

"Please, stay. It's my last show, and I'd like to perform a special song." People around Asriel sat back down, and Frisk smiled. "It's my favorite song, and it's stuck with me since the first time I came to a show here. Now, I'd like to return the favor." Frisk nodded at Napstablook, who gave her a note on the piano. Frisk hummed it, and Napstablook started to play the accompaniment. It filled the quiet theatre, and then Frisk began to sing.

"Eyes like the moon in the sky  
Through an endless diamond night  
We are infinite, nothing can tear us apart  
You're tearing my fear apart..."

As she sang, someone stood up behind Asriel. He was focused on the song, but he felt the movement in the air behind him. Asriel recognized the song, it was a song Mettaton had sung the first time Frisk and Asriel had technically met. Frisk continued to sing.

"You and I, together no matter where we are  
It will only get better, it can only get better  
Your smile  
I've found a way to make you smile..."

If Asriel's ears hadn't have been as big as they were, he probably would have missed the mechanical click that came from behind him. Frisk's eyes were closed on the stage, and Asriel knew that with the piano so close, she wouldn't be able to hear the click or his shout.

"It's hard for me to stay  
But you make all the confusion go away, all of it  
And when you find me there, you'll search no more  
You won't have to search any more..."

Asriel stood, breaking into a run. The man behind him aimed, squeezing his finger against the mechanical trigger of his gun. Asriel reached the edge of the stage just as the bullet flew from the gun. The world slowed to a crawl. Asriel jumped onto the stage as Frisk sang the final chorus, her eyes still closed. Asriel used his body like a sheild, covering his human partner from the aim of the gun. Looking out into the crowd, it was pitch black.

"You and I, together no matter where we are  
It will only get better, it can only get better  
Your smile  
I've found a way to make you smile  
A way to make you smile..."

Pain pierced through Asriel's shoulder, and he let out a bleat. Frisk opened her eyes to see Asriel's shoulder and suit covered in red, sticky blood. She gasped as chaos erupted through the  _Ghost Theatre_. Asriel fell to his knees as another bullet hit his side. Frisk fell to her knees behind him, trying to catch the goat monster as he fell. The shooter was gone by the time that Napstablook could get the lights on, leaving Frisk and Asriel in the empty theatre, bloodstained and lost as to what to do next.

Frisk laid Asriel across her lap, and Napstablook rushed to find Alphys. Asriel smiled up at Frisk, pain piercing the grass green of his eyes. Asriel's chest was warm, but he couldn't tell if it was from Frisk or the blood dripping onto him. With a weak smile, he looked up at Frisk.

"Do you trust me now?" he asked with a soft laugh. He cringed at the laugh, trying to keep the smile on his face. Frisk's brown eyes were filled with concern, and she could feel the pleasant sparks shooting all over her body, laced with terror and empathy for the monster bleeding in her lap. Frisk tried to return his laugh, but failed miserably. "Well, do you?"

Frisk just nodded, holding the bleeding monster and waiting for Alphys.  _Asriel took a bullet for her,_ she thought.  _He can't be bad at all._

 

 


	12. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Asriel's shooting.

Alphys had taken Asriel and Frisk back to the warehouse immediately, abandoning all efforts to finish the robotic body for Mettaton. The dress Frisk was wearing was stained with dark, rusty blood, but at that point she didn't care. Her body was still covered in the sparks of pleasure, which had turned into terror for the young monster. While she didn't act like it, she liked having him as a partner. Asriel seemed to genuinely care about Frisk, and she liked it. Through the years, her relationship with Sans and Papyrus had changed, it wasn't the same as it had been when she was a little girl. Now, Frisk was feeling something new. Something warm.

Napstablook and Mettaton had been carrying Asriel for Alphys, their squishy ghost bodies soft enough to not hurt Asriel as they carried him from the taxi cab to the warehouse. She pointed on a large bed she kept in her lab and the ghosts deposited Asriel's bleeding body on the bed. Alphys had gotten it after Frisk was shot, just to be safe. Asriel's eyes were partially shut, and his breathing was shallow, in and out of his chest like a low- tide river. Frisk knelt next to the bed, barely noticing as the ghosts left. Asriel seemed to be shaking a bit, a grimace of pain on his face.

"Asriel?" Frisk asked quietly. Shaking with pain, he turned his head. His large green eyes were laced with pain. Frisk stared into them, taking his cold hand in hers.  _Weren't they warm earlier that day?_  "Thank you," Frisk said, just loud enough for Asriel to hear. He smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak.

"Any time, Frisk," he said, coughing. He tried to laugh it off, but ended up grimacing in pain. A clatter of heels exploded above them, clamoring down the stairs into Alphys' lab. Toriel flew, her skirt flowing behind her like a great tail. "Mom!" Asriel cried, but another stab of pain wracked his body. The bullet wounds felt like they were made of fire, burning the muscle around them.

"My son! My God, who did this to you?" Toriel fell to her knees on the other side of Asriel, continuing to fawn over her dying son. The blood was still seeping from his wounds, and Alphys walked quickly over, holding a cold washcloth and a small first aid kit. "Alphys, tell me, is he going to survive?" Alphys placed the washcloth on Asriel's forehead and avoided Toriel's eyes. "Alphys!" Toriel's eyes were brimming with tears of terror and rage. The knees of her dress were torn from the fall, but at this point, Toriel didn't care. Frisk was covered in Asriel's blood, and Toriel noticed their intertwined hands. "Alphys! Tell me!"

"By now, the wounds are likely infected. It is very unlikely that your son will survive, Ms. Dreemurr," Alphys answered, trying to hold her head up high. In a way, Asriel's shooting was her fault. Frisk could feel Asriel's weak heartbeat in his cold hand, and she gripped it tighter, trying to feel the beat. Her blood was rushing in her ears, matching Asriel's soft heartbeat.  _He would die,_ she thought.

Asriel shuddered with pain and cold on the bed, and Frisk and Toriel watched with horror as he paled. Toriel was in too much grief and pain to even attempt to heal him, and Frisk was useless when it came to magic. Asriel turned his head to Toriel, his green eyes opening just enough to see her clearly.

"Mom, I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me," he said, and Toriel raised her head. "You taught me how to be a good monster, how to be kind. How to save people."

"Shhh, Asriel," Toriel said, taking his other hand. He tried to speak, but she squeezed his hand and shushed him. "You saved Frisk. You're a good monster, you're very kind. Do you remember playing piano?" Asriel laughed, nodding. He cringed in pain, paling with the stress. "We'll get a piano, okay? I can teach you how to play again. Would you like that?"

"I can teach Frisk," Asriel said, smiling at the human girl holding his other hand. Frisk squeezed it.

"I'd like that a lot, Asriel," she said. Asriel weakly squeezed their hands, looking up at the ceiling. He was humming the melody Frisk had been singing when he was shot, just softly. His heartbeat seemed to match Frisk's for just a moment, and as he stared at the ceiling, his breathing and grip on their hands weakened. Within a few minutes, his body was limp.

The moment Toriel realized that her son was dead, she let out a shriek that pierced Frisk's soul. It felt like she had been stabbed. Frisk could still feel a weak pulse, but he would be dead within a few more minutes, and she wasn't about to tell Toriel that her son was not quite dead. Frisk wanted to leave Toriel to her anguish, but she couldn't, because the loss of Asriel felt like her soul was shredding to pieces. Frisk looked at the blood on her dress, the blood that was shed by this monster just to save her life, and she laid herself across the weakening body of the boy who had saved her.

A thousand small moments rushed through Frisk's mind. Infinities that could happen, a thousand pathways that would never be if Asriel died. Sobs wracked Frisk's body, tears rushing down her face like a waterfall. This boy just saved her life, and now he would pay with his own, all because he was a kind hearted monster who she didn't trust. Who she couldn't have trusted before, who she didn't even give a chance. Frisk wished she could take it all back, wished she could go back in time and restart the day, the way things were between them. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing with all her soul that Asriel would survive, that the timelines she imagined could actually take place, that she could have a second chance at redemption.

Toriel gasped. Frisk and Asriel were glowing brightly, golden light taking over Alphys' small lab. The soft melody that Asriel had been humming grew, and Toriel realized that both Frisk and Asriel were humming it. Warm magic filled the room, and as Frisk held the monster who was about to give his life for her, she did something she had never been able to do. Frisk weilded magic and began to heal the wounds that were inflicted on him by the unknown shooter.

Warmth spread through Asriel, and suddenly, he had the strength to open his eyes. Frisk was laying across him, in a desperately awkward position, sobbing. She was golden, glowing with magic that he didn't think humans had even possessed until Frisk began to use it. Asriel could feel himself using magic too, combining Frisk's magic with his own to heal himself. Carefully, he picked Frisk up, moving her so that he was hugging her tightly. Toriel and Alphys watched in awe as the golden light surrounded the human and the monster. The pain started to dissolve from Asriel's body like the bubbles from a Coca Cola, and he smiled as Frisk buried her head in his shoulder.

"Asriel?" she asked, her damaged voice nearly a whisper.

"Frisk," he answered, happiness in his voice. Now he was sure that he knew what the warm feeling in his chest had been. Not something bad, not something wrong. The feeling of home, the feeling of  _love._ Asriel pushed Frisk away a bit, his grassy eyes looking into her chocolate ones. They were clear, like liqueor, but deep and beautiful. Asriel felt like he could become infinitely lost in those eyes, and Frisk felt like she could live in his. There was something between them, and Frisk knew that it was just the beginning. Asriel leaned closer, the two of them still surrounded by the golden magic. Frisk's face was tear streaked and bloodstained, but she smiled slightly and leaned towards him. Their eyes closed as their lips met, the golden magic fading as they kissed.

The moment the magic was gone, Asriel collapsed, falling back onto the bed, fast asleep. Frisk smiled down at him and smoothed stained sheets around him. Frisk had forgotten that Toriel and Alphys were still in the lab with them, but they were both too awestruck to speak or move, much less pull Frisk from her own enchanted stupor.

_Yes,_ she thought, looking at the sleeping monster.  _This is just the beginning._


	13. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later.

"Hey! Now that you're awake, I thought I'd bring some books for you to entertain yourself until you're better," Frisk said through a large stack of  _Sherlock Holmes_. Asriel laid on the bed, smiling up at the human girl carrying the large pile. After Frisk had healed him, he had slept for days, and they had moved him from the bed in the lab so they could clean the blood from it. Now that he was awake, Asriel didn't remember the magic, just the shooting and fiery pain.

"Books?" Asriel's voice was still soft, and he moved a bit on the large pile of pillows he was propped up against. The lab's mattress was now in the sitting room, which was mostly empty, because the family never used the room. Frisk nodded vigorously, setting some of them onto the floor next to Asriel. Her cold shoulder had melted away, and now she eagerly visited him, even more than Toriel did. "Um..."

"The entire  _Sherlock Holmes_ series. I didn't think you'd have read them, having been on the streets," Frisk sat down next to him, Indian style. "They're my favorite mystery novels."

"I...I can't read these, Frisk." Asriel's voice was quiet, a little more than a whisper. Even though Frisk had been able to save him with her magic, he had lost a lot of blood, and he was weak. Frisk raised an eyebrow, gently touching Asriel's hand. He pulled it away from her, confused as to why this girl who had hated him only days ago was suddenly trying to hold his hand.

"Of course you can! I'm letting you borrow them, Asriel," Frisk said, but Asriel cut her off with a pained expression. "Do your wounds hurt? Do I need to get Toriel?" Concern was clear in Frisk's eyes, but Asriel cut her off again.

"I can't  _read_ , Frisk."

"Oh..." Frisk paused, looking desperately at the covers of the novels, as though the fictional detective could provide her with answers. "Well, I'll just have to teach you then."

"Teach me?"

"To read."

"Uh...okay. But wait," Asriel looked up at Frisk, his large green eyes full of curiosity. Frisk nodded, subtly telling Asriel to continue. He swallowed, a hint of pain written on his face. "What happened? I mean, after I was shot. What happened?"

"We brought you back to the warehouse," Frisk said, avoiding Asriel's eyes. He didn't remember the magic she used, or the kiss that they shared. Frisk thought that maybe it was better that way, with Asriel's memory loss keeping her safer. Stronger. Something inside Frisk knew that keeping it from Asriel was probably wrong, but she didn't dare tell him that she had healed him. It was safer for them to be apart, to not give into the butterflies he set off in her stomach. Asriel had nearly died for Frisk, but she knew that falling for him wouldn't do anything. "Alphys stitched you up. You slept."

"No, something else happened. Something warm, something..." Asriel paused, looking at Frisk. He was frustrated at his memory loss, frustrated at his weakness and the holes in his shoulder and side. He weakly punched the mattress with his good arm, and Frisk felt her heart tug with feeling. The goat monster looked helplessly small, and Frisk tried to grab his hand again. He pulled it away, looking away from the human. With the jerk of his hand, a shot of fire spread through the bullet hole in his shoulder. "Tell me the truth, Frisk," Asriel said weakly.

"Get some rest," Frisk said in response, standing up. Asriel turned to try to stop her, but the wound on his side screamed in pain. He laid back, too weak to argue. Frisk walked out of the room and straight into Sans. He was pulling off his fedora, and when he saw Frisk, he smiled up at her, exhaustion clear on his skull. Frisk could see his hands shaking without the aid of his amber whiskey, and she sighed under her breath. It was dangerous, it was an addiction. Sans was itching for a drink, while Frisk was itching to play a game of poker.

"Hey, kiddo. How was today in the life of Frisk?" Sans asked, hanging up his jacket. He wore a white button down and a grey suit vest, and grey pinstripe trousers. His shoes had sea spray on them, and Frisk wondered where he had been.

"Boring as hell. Yours?" Frisk asked, walking with him to the kitchen. Soft snores travelled to Frisk's ear from the sitting room, and she knew that Asriel had fallen asleep. She smiled softly, catching a glimpse of the monster through the doorframe. Frisk could still remember the feeling of his lips on hers, their magic intertwining around them. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her lips with the back of her hand to make the feeling go away.  _It's safer this way._

"Let's just say I need a drink," Sans answered, pulling open a kitchen cupboard and taking out a large bottle of amber whiskey.

"How's the search going?" Sans and Papyrus were looking for the man who had shot Asriel. Frisk was sure that it was connected to Asgore, especially since she had been the intended target. Killing a child, and the most adept member of the family, was the easiest way to start a war in the city. Since Frisk had been shot years ago, the small declarance of war had hung like a thin veil over the family in the warehouse. There's one thing that is certain to come with war - and now that it was officially begun - Frisk had a feeling that death wouldn't be too far to follow.

"Like I said, I need a drink," Sans replied, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself. Frisk started a kettle of water so Sans wouldn't offer the booze to her. "It's a dead end, kid." Sans took a swig of his drink, smiling at the burn of the alcohol. "What do you care, anyhow? You're not the one with a couple holes in ya," Sans said, eyeing Frisk. The short skeleton had his sneaking suspicions about Asriel and Frisk's relationship, but he refused to say anything. He planned to ride it out, and when things started to roll, he'd make his feelings known.

"If Asriel hadn't been there, I would have been," Frisk answered. Sans just shrugged, swallowing the rest of his whiskey.

"I'm headed to Grillby's. Wanna tag along?" Frisk shrugged, moving the teakettle from the heat. She turned off the stove.

"Let me do something really fast," Frisk answered, walking out of the kitchen. Sans watched quietly, moving to the doorway so he could see what was going on. Frisk walked to the sitting room, stopping by Asriel's sleeping form. Frisk leaned down, her lips softly brushing against his furry forehead. Sans held back a gasp as she smiled down at the nearly comatose monster. Frisk walked away from the sitting room and back to the door of the kitchen. Sans tried to pretend that he didn't see anything as he put his whiskey-scented glass in the sink. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

"Hey, Grillby. Got any buzz on the masked man who shot my friend?" Sans asked, settling his bones on a bar stool in the speakeasy. Grillby's firey head turned to look at the skeleton, and he shrugged.

"I don't know if I've heard anything, Sans. I run a bar, I don't keep books on the conversation," Grillby said, continuing to polish the bar. Frisk sat down next to Sans, watching his movements carefully. The whiskey from home was starting to calm his shaking hands, but it was clear that the skeleton was jonesing for another glass. Grillby could apparently see it too, because he stopped polishing the bar and started pouring Sans his regular drink. "What'll you have, Frisk?"

"I'll take a Coca Cola," Frisk answered with a smile. Grillby's fire crackled cheerfully, and he handed her a glass of soda with Sans' glass of whiskey. "Are you sure you haven't heard anything?" Frisk asked carefully, sipping her soda. Grillby leaned on his forearms in front of her, looking through his glasses into Frisk's chocolate eyes. Frisk stared back, casually drinking her soda. A smile appeared in the flames engulfing the form of Grillby's head. Frisk sighed. "Grillby, a monster nearly died. It's on me that he got shot. Are you  _sure_ you haven't heard anything?"

"Well, I heard some rumors floating around that Asgore Dreemurr's back in town," Grillby started, standing back up. "He's gunning for blood, no pun intended." Sans chuckled, taking a heavy swig of his whiskey. Frisk ignored him, a shiver running down her spine.  _Asgore Dreemurr is gunning for blood._ Grillby's flame burned low, a serious expression in his eyes. "Your blood, Frisk." Sans nearly choked on his whiskey.

"I'm sorry, what?" the skeleton asked, his voice gravelly with the booze.

"I just give out the information, Sans. The only human on this turf is Frisk, and Asgore is looking to kill the human on Tori's turf. It's simple deduction," Grillby answered, walking away. Frisk stared into her soda, and Sans stared into his whiskey. They stayed like that for what felt like an infinity, the smoky air of the speakeasy twirling around them. Frisk didn't even feel like she was breathing.  _Asgore Dreemurr is gunning for_ my  _blood._ Frisk could remember when she was younger, when Toriel had told her the story of Asgore, when she had told Frisk to run. She felt like running now, running straight to the Hudson and never looking back. For the first time in a long time, Frisk was scared.

"Damn, kid," Sans said, breaking the silence. Frisk barely moved at the comment. "Too bad you bleed red like the rest of us. Asgore won't be happy about that," Sans swung down his whiskey and flagged Grillby down for a refill. The smoke curling around Frisk made her feel like she was suffocating. Without a word, Frisk stood up, leaving a half glass of soda sitting next to her favorite skeleton. Lost in his own haze of smoke, concern, and amber alcohol, Sans didn't turn to watch her walk out of Grillby's. The door closed, letting a breeze of Manhattan night into the bar.

Frisk walked to the abandoned building she spent a lot of her time on top of, the chilled night air forcing its way into her lungs. It felt like she couldn't breathe, like her lungs had suddenly shrunk multiple sizes and shriveled up like a raisin. She carefully scaled the fire escape and sat on the roof, staring up at the dark night sky.

Asgore Dreemurr was trying to kill her. Frisk knew this, and it itched down her spine and across her brain. There was something beginning, something more than whatever was between her and Asriel, something more than Frisk could have imagined when she was shot at sixteen. Frisk felt her lungs inflate, worry making her fingers tremble.

Everything that was about to happen was going to be Frisk's fault. The thought hit her like a knife to the stomach, and Frisk suddenly found herself gasping for air. Frisk's fingernails dug into her palms, leaving small half- moon indents in the soft skin of her hands. The pain calmed Frisk's heart, and she collected herself, closing her eyes and imagining herself among the clouded stars above her.

After a few minutes, Frisk stood, climbing back down and walking with purpose back to Grillby's. Sans was stumbling out the front door, drunken and swaying under the weight of alcohol and memories. Frisk rushed to him, helping him balance as they walked back to the warehouse. It was well past midnight, and the pinpricks of stars cast dim light between the streetlamps. Sans stumbled beside Frisk, his large bones clattering in the quiet streets of Manhattan.

"I...I don't want you to die, Frisk..." Sans blubbered out, his speech soft and slurred with alcohol. "I...You can't die...You an' Paps, you can't..." Sans hiccupped, falling forward. Frisk caught him, looking to find the warehouse. It was about a block away from where Sans fell. The short skeleton was half- asleep, blubbering with booze and depression.

"Can you walk?" Frisk asked, annoyance in her rough alto voice. Sans didn't respond, just laid mostly asleep across Frisk, the occasional snort coming from the hole in his face where a nose would have been, had he had flesh. Frisk grunted, hauling the skeleton behind her and making her way slowly to the warehouse. Sans was just dead weight now, and Frisk was annoyed at the drunken skeleton. Between huffs and puffs, Frisk spat out some words. "No one is dying, Sans," she said, pulling him towards the door. "Not me, not Papyrus, not Toriel. No one is dying." Sans slumped a bit more, hiccupping in his sleep. "Goddamnit, Sans, would you walk?"

Frisk tugged Sans into the warehouse, throwing him onto his bed. He could figure out what happened in the morning, no help from Frisk needed. Too exhuasted to sleep, and too full of thoughts, Frisk walked quietly to the sitting room, where Asriel lay in the makeshift bed, still asleep. Frisk smiled softly at him, suddenly feeling the need to have a pair of arms around her. Ever since their shared kiss, Frisk had been aching for a touch from Asriel. Nothing sexual, nothing more than holding her. But she could feel the ache like a bruise underneath her skin. Carefully, Frisk walked towards Asriel until she could hear his soft, shallow breathing.

Even asleep, it was obvious that the bullet holes were still hurting Asriel. Frisk had tried to use more magic to heal him, but it hadn't seemed to work. Frisk now understood what it was like to be on the other side of someone close to you dying. Frisk stood over Asriel, afraid to touch him without his permission. She trusted him with more than her life now, and she knew that if he hadn't been there, she would have been the one in the bed, possibly dead. With the bitter taste of a lie and flat soda in her mouth, Frisk turned and walked quietly back to her own bed. The moment she left the room, Asriel's eyes opened, and he touched his forehead where Frisk's lips had been only hours before.

* * *

"Frisk, I can't learn to read," Asriel said, exasperated. Frisk closed the book, resting her head against the cool hardback cover. "It's not your fault. I'm just not that smart," Asriel said, trying to comfort the human girl. She sighed, shaking her head.

"You are smart, Asriel. I just don't know how to teach you to read," Frisk answered, setting the book aside. "I'll figure it out, okay?" Asriel carefully reached out, touching Frisk's hand. A spark shot through her, and she fought her natural instincts to shy away.

"You don't have to," Asriel said softly. He looked small and vulnerable laying there on the bed. "You know what you should do, though?" Frisk gazed at him expectantly. Asriel took her hand in his, and Frisk remembered the cold feeling of them when he had been dying. "Tell me the truth about the shooting." Frisk bit her tongue. "Please, Frisk. I'm the one who was shot, I should know what happened, at least." Frisk sighed, squeezing Asriel's hand lightly. "Please?"

"I was singing at the  _Ghost Theatre_. I'm not really sure what happened then, because I had my eyes closed, but suddenly, there were gunshots, and you were bleeding in front of me. You saved my life, Asriel," Frisk said, swallowing thickly. "Your wounds were infected. You were dying. Alphys brought you back to the warehouse, back home, and... she couldn't save you." Asriel's eyes widened. "There was no way to save you. You were so close to dying and I... somehow, I used magic, and I..."

"You healed me," Asriel said, interrupting. Frisk nodded softly, and Asriel cocked his head to one side. His ear crumpled against his shoulder, a cute gesture that made Frisk's heart skip a beat. "That's not all, is it?" Asriel asked, curiosity clear in his grass green eyes.

"No," Frisk admitted. "You...I...we...kissed," Frisk said, staring into her lap. Asriel's hand tightened around her own, pulling her closer.

"That explains a lot," Asriel said. Frisk's cheeks turned bright red, and she kept her eyes away from Asriel's. "Hey, look at me," Asriel said, and Frisk turned her head to Asriel's at the soft command. He was smiling widely, happiness dancing in his green eyes. "It especially explains why I've wanted to kiss you ever since I woke up," Asriel whispered, pulling Frisk so close to him that they were barely centimeters apart. Frisk could feel his soft, sweet breath on her lips.

Frisk's eyes closed, and Asriel kissed her softly, like he was taking lessons in hesitation instead of literacy. Frisk felt herself kiss him back, melting into the shape of the monster her lips were meeting. Carefully, Asriel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His hands seemed to know exactly where Frisk was softest, exactly where her weak spots belonged. Frisk held his head in her hands, feeling the soft fur underneath the palms of her hands. With Frisk's lips on Asriel, she forgot that his father was after her, forgot that anyone was after her. Asriel smiled softly, opening his eyes to look at Frisk. She pulled back a bit, looking into his eyes. They giggled a bit, a feeling of happiness welling in Frisk's chest like a filling glass. Asriel's smile felt like it was melting her edges, and Frisk loved the feeling.

Sans cleared his throat behind the two young members of the family, and Frisk turned quickly, her heart beating in her chest like a speeding train. Asriel looked embarassed, but Frisk noticed that he didn't let go of her hand. Sheepish, Frisk looked away from Asriel and Sans, finding a spot on the far wall to stare at. Sans coughed again, cracking his knuckles as though he was preparing for a fight.

"Frisk, may I have a word alone with the newest member of our family?" Sans asked, a heavy bite driven by alcohol. Frisk stood quickly, keeping her head away from the skeleton's vision as she scurried away. She felt bad for leaving Asriel with Sans, so she stood by the door, listening in on their conversation. A bright blue glow lit the room. and Frisk knew that Sans was using his magic to scare Asriel. "Listen to me, and listen to me now, Dreemurr," Sans said, his voice still gruff and angry.

"I'm listening, sir," Asriel responded meekly.

"Frisk is the most important girl in the universe. And she's got this skeleton on her side. You've felt two bullet holes already. Hurt Frisk, and you'll be mistaken for Swiss cheese." Sans paused, letting his words soak into Asriel. "Do you understand me?" Asriel didn't respond, and the blue flame grew brighter, nearly too bright for Frisk to look at. "Understand me, Dreemurr?"

"Y-yes, sir," Asriel said, and Frisk could picture him scooting away from Sans on the bed. "I understand you perfectly, sir," Asriel added. The blue glow disappeared, and Frisk could picture the smile on Sans' face.

"Good." Sans stalked from the room, grabbing his hat and avoiding Frisk. With the door's loud thump, he was gone into the New York City night, probably headed to Grillby's. Frisk sighed, walking back to Asriel. He had a glint of fear in his green eyes, and Frisk smiled softly, trying to comfort him. Asriel's fear turned into a hint of confusion, and Frisk turned her head to the side, trying to interpret his expression.

"What's Swiss cheese?" Asriel asked.

 


	14. New York City, 1924

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month later.

"Just like this," Asriel said, placing his hands on top of Frisk's. A flurry of butterflies erupted in her stomach, and she giggled at the touch. The two sat side- by- side on the piano bench that accompanied the piano Toriel had bought her son. "Here, okay, let me play you something so you get the idea," Asriel said, scooting closer to Frisk. She stood out of his way, smiling down at the gentle monster sitting at the piano. Asriel closed his large green eyes, concentrating. Something made Frisk fall silent, her breath stalled in her throat.

Asriel began to play the piano, his careful hands picking the notes seemingly randomly. Asriel played as though the piano gave him life, as though the music he was creating was a part of his soul. He seemed to pick the notes at random, but they created a beautiful melody that struck Frisk as  _his._ If Frisk could name a song that described Asriel perfectly, it would have been the one he played for her on the piano. There were no words, but the music he played was haunting. It was from a time when he had a home, from a time when he had a sister, from a time when he had a mother and a father. Asriel poured his heart into the song, playing it purely from memory.

When Asriel finished, Frisk was awestruck. Asriel opened his eyes, looking up at Frisk's face. She couldn't feel herself breathing, and Asriel laughed a bit at her face. Her jaw was slack, and Frisk's eyes still hovered over Asriel's hands, as if they possessed some sort of magic.

"You're turning blue, Frisk," Asriel said softly, and Frisk gasped in air. Asriel laughed a bit more, turning on the piano bench so he sat sideways on it. "What did you think?"

"That was amazing!" Frisk cried, and Asriel grinned, his cheeks turning bright pink. "How can you do that?" Asriel shrugged. "That was so good! You've always known how to do that?"

"Since I was little," Asriel answered softly. He was so gentle, constantly soft where Frisk could be hard and cold.

"That's amazing!" Frisk paused, looking into Asriel's bright green eyes. "You're amazing." Asriel tipped his head back, laughing softly, and Frisk leaned down to kiss him. Just as their lips brushed, a sharp knock hit against the living room door. Frisk straightened up to see Papyrus standing in the doorway, a crimson shirt showing between his white suit jacket's buttons. There was a large grin on his thin skull, and a heavy bone rested against his leg, hanging from the tight grip of his skeletal hand.

"Human? Did you forget about our plans to visit Undyne?" Papyrus asked, and Frisk laughed a bit.

"Of course not, Papyrus. Let's go," Frisk said. She started to walk away from Asriel, but he caught her hand for just a moment. His wounds had long since fully healed, but they hadn't been back on the streets for nearly a month. Frisk was itching to start hunting down Asgore, or doing something. Anything but being trapped in the warehouse. Not that she minded being around Asriel, though. "Hey, I promise I'll be back. I have something to show you tonight." Frisk placed a tiny kiss on Asriel's cheek and pulled her hand away, walking over to the tall skeleton waiting in the doorway.

"Shall we, human?" Papyrus held out his arm, letting Frisk loop hers through his. Frisk laughed, looping her arm through his and brushing a single strand of brown hair away from her face. It had escaped her braid, which wasn't unusual, but it was still annoying. She would have to fix it when they got to Undyne's.

"We shall," Frisk answered, matching her strides to Papyrus'. "What did Undyne want us to visit for again?"

"She has some information on Asgore Dreemurr," Papyrus said, pausing to look down at Frisk. He could tell why Asriel liked her, why he was so obviously falling in love with her. Frisk had turned into a beautiful human woman, with soft sloping features and sharp, intelligent chocolate eyes. "That, and she hasn't seen you for a long time. I thought it'd be nice for you two to talk again," Papyrus added. Frisk smiled.

"Yeah, it'll be great to see the police chief. I'm sure she's very busy with everything," Frisk said, walking down the street next to Papyrus. Undyne lived near them, but not so close that she could be easily associated with the family. She had helped Sans and Papyrus when they were kids, helped them find Toriel and the rest of the family when they were a bit older. Papyrus had always been closer to her, though. The human and skeleton fell into an awkward silence for a block, and Frisk unhooked her arm from his, walking quietly beside him. After a few minutes, Papyrus broke the silence.

"So, you and Asriel, huh?" Papyrus asked, tapping his finger against his bone. He used it like a cane, as opposed to a weapon, but just for show. Frisk slid a look at Papyrus, and he smiled widely. "I approve. Does Toriel know?"

"I would assume so," Frisk answered.

"Does my brother know?" Frisk thought back to Sans' gravelly threat, fueled by whiskey and care for her.

"Yes."

"Well, good luck, human." Papyrus paused, the gears turning in his head. "You know, he wasn't always the way he is. Not so angry and sad, not when we were kids." Papyrus kept walking, now completely lost in his memories. "When we were kids, Sans was the funniest skeleton I knew. He had great jokes, and he always had a smile on his face. He took care of me, like a big brother should, took me to Central Park and taught me how to climb trees. We'd paint our skulls on Halloween and go as other monsters," Papyrus said, a happy tone in his voice. "It all changed when our dad died, though."

"Your dad?" Frisk remembered the story Sans had told her when she was little, of the death of a skeleton named W.D. Gaster.

"Sans calls him Gaster now. But he was our dad. He died when I was pretty little, in some accident with an invention he had created. My brother understands it better than I do. He hasn't been the same since Dad died. I'm not sure what happened, but it changed Sans." Papyrus stopped, turning so he could look at Frisk in the eyes. "It changed my brother for the worse." Frisk's heart hurt with the words.  _This was Sans at_ worse?  _There was a time when he wasn't the way he was?_  Suddenly, Papyrus smiled, snapping out of the memories as quickly as he had encountered them. "Come on, Undyne's expecting us."

* * *

"So, the most recent sighting of your man was at a recent homicide," Undyne said, sipping a beer as she spread a file across the dinner table. Undyne's house smelled like stale cigar smoke, even though she didn't smoke and didn't ever plan on it. Her ice box was full of leftovers from various restaraunts and beer, which she offered to Papyrus and Frisk. Both of them politely declined the alcohol, each silently remembering the way Sans was when he was inebriated. "It wasn't much, but one of my officers saw him slipping away."

"Did they have a good description of him?" Frisk asked, sipping her water that Undyne had given her. It tasted a bit like metal, but that was okay.

"From what I could gather, it was sure as hell Asgore. No doubt about it. What I don't know is if he was the murderer," Undyne answered. Papyrus massaged his temples with his bony fingertips.

"So, basically, you're telling me that the man who shot Frisk, and possibly shot his own son, may or may not also be a murderer," Papyrus said, exasperation clear in his high tenor voice.

"Not so much a murderer, Papyrus. A suspect. But I don't have any evidence on his ass, so I can't get him in." Undyne took another swig of her beer. "All I can tell you is that he's probably back to killing humans. But if he is, he's covering his tracks, and he's covering them well. Asgore's one careful son of a bitch, I'll give him that."

"Wait, wait, he's killing  _humans_ _?_ " Frisk asked, her voice high- pitched and concerned. Her skin was the only one in the room not covered in scales, she was the only one in the family of the human race.

"Well, usually any crimes in our area involve monsters. Or low- life humans who don't have the sense to get out of the monster district. But this is new. It was a human girl, shot in the chest. Come to think of it, the poor girl looked a hell of a lot like you, Frisk." Papyrus, who was listening intensely to Undyne talk, turned to Frisk. His skull held the sharp concern that Frisk had seen him hold so many times for Sans.

"The girl looked like Frisk?" Papyrus asked, wobbling concern in his voice. Papyrus rarely used Frisk's named unless something was serious. Frisk took a large gulp of water, draining the glass and wishing it was alcohol. "The human victim, she looked like Frisk?"

"Yeah, actually, she did. Long brown hair, pale skin, rather tall." Undyne swung her beer back, but the glass bottle was empty. "Damn it. I need another beer. You sure you don't want one, Frisk?" Frisk stared at her empty water glass as Undyne walked to her ice box.

"Actually, I'll take you up on that offer, Undyne," Frisk said, and Undyne smiled her large toothy grin. Undyne handed her a cold bottle of beer, the thick glass covered in cool droplets of water. They mixed with the sudden sweat on the palm of Frisk's hand.  _First, Asgore Dreemurr is after her. Now, humans that look like her are being murdered._ Without another thought, Frisk took a large swig of the alcohol. It was bitter, and Frisk considered stopping drinking. But the more she thought of the danger she was putting everyone in just by being alive, the more she needed the warm buzz of alcohol.

"Human? I think you ought to slow down there," Papyrus said, but Frisk wasn't listening. The cold beer was warming her up, making the thoughts in her brain fuzzy, as if they were covered in hair. When it was clear that Frisk wasn't listening to him, Papyrus gave up and turned to Undyne. "Keep me updated if any more humans are killed, alright?"

"Of course, Paps. You can always count on the New York Police Department," Undyne said, laughing a bit. The blue monster took another swig of her beer, the booze on her breath becoming thicker with every sip. Frisk could feel the alcohol in her veins, pumping like thick blood into every inch of her body. It felt a bit bubbly, and she couldn't help it, she laughed. Papyrus glared daggers at her, but the booze on Frisk's tongue made her mind thick.

"It's okay, Papyrus," Frisk said thickly. The beer was already gone, Frisk having downed the bottle quickly. Her mind, the still sharp- ish thoughts and fears especially, were aching for another bottle, but the tall skeleton pulled her up by the elbow. "What're you doin'?"

"Thank you for the information, Undyne. We need to head back home. I'll be waiting for your further information." Papyrus tugged Frisk out of Undyne's house, his long finger bones digging into her arm sharply. Frisk could barely feel it through the thick haze of the alcohol, clinging to her skin like sweat. He walked her home, never letting go of her arm, all the while grumbling under his breath. When they reached the warehouse, Papyrus' bones were boiling with anger. Frisk could feel the heat rolling off of him, but it was dulled by the alcohol. "Go to sleep, Frisk," Papyrus ordered, steering her to her bedroom and letting go of her arm.

Drunkenly, Frisk fell into her bed, her stomach churning with vague nausea. It didn't feel like Frisk was in her own body, instead floating above it or around it, stuck in a stranger's body with a stranger's life. Papyrus left the room, and Frisk laid on her bed, the world around her spinning in a mess of colors and distant sounds. Before she could help herself, the thoughts and fears bombarded her mind like enemy fire. Tears slipped from Frisk's eyes, terror making her shake and sob. Asriel heard her from his makeshift room in the sitting room. Quietly, he walked to her room, his grassy eyes taking in the sight of the human girl sobbing alone on her bed.

The scent of beer was thick around Frisk, and Asriel stepped forward, picking Frisk up in his arms and holding her to his chest. She could barely tell what was happening, but she could tell that it was Asriel because of the scent of black licorice reaching her nose. Frisk shook in Asriel's arms, the booze breaking her promise to show him what she had wanted to. Asriel stroked her back gently, sitting on her bed and letting Frisk bury her face in his chest. He shushed her quietly, but the crying continued.

"I...I don't want to die..." Frisk said between sobs. Asriel held her tighter, rubbing her hair and continuing to shush her.

"I won't let you, Frisk," Asriel answered quietly, kissing the top of her head. Frisk cried herself into a drunken sleep, devoid of nightmares and anything except alcohol and the feeling of Asriel's arms around her. Asriel held her as she slept, carefully keeping her asleep until she was okay again. When she flinched in her sleep, Asriel held Frisk tighter, whispering into her hair. "I won't let you die. I promise."

* * *

Frisk woke up with a pounding headache and Asriel's sleeping form entangled with her own. Carefully, she pulled herself away, aching for a glass of water for her cotton- filled mouth. Toriel was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a romance novel. When Frisk stumbled into the kitchen, she looked up, concern in her familiar eyes.

"How are you feeling, my child? Papyrus told me you had quite an afternoon yesterday," Toriel said, and Frisk groaned. "Coffee will help that headache, Frisk." Frisk poured herself a cup of coffee, sitting across from Toriel. The head of the family closed her book, taking another soft sip of her coffee. Much like her son, everything Toriel did was gentle and soft in everything she did. "Let's discuss something, Frisk," Toriel said gently, a layer of seriousness underneath the soft velvet of her voice.

"Okay," Frisk said warily, drinking a bit of her coffee. It was strong, and the last muddy traces of alcohol left her mind as the caffiene took over.

"I know you fancy my son," Toriel started, folding her hands over her romance novel. Frisk nodded carefully, afraid of doing the wrong thing. "I also know that he fancies you." Frisk's mind leapt to their shared kisses, not secret, but not open to the world. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she looked at the table, avoiding Toriel's maternal eyes. "I also know how dangerous love can be," Toriel added, the softness of her voice wearing thin.

"Dangerous?" Frisk asked, and Toriel nodded solemnly.

"This war between Asgore and I, this war that has all of us so caught up in its violence, is all because of love."  _No, it's all because of me,_ Frisk thought. Toriel sipped her coffee, her soft eyes growing hard. "You're a smart girl, Frisk. Don't let this make you stupid." Frisk took a cautious drink of her coffee, the feeling of Asriel's touch still on her skin. In the back of her mind, Frisk wondered if Toriel knew about Asriel's concern for her, if Toriel knew that Asriel had held her all night long. "And do not hurt my son. Is that clear, Frisk?"

"Yes, ma'am," Frisk said, setting her jaw carefully. Toriel nodded, opening her romance book and starting to read again, sipping her coffee absentmindedly. Frisk's eyes followed her every movement, now sharp with the strong, bitter coffee. When she had finished her drink, she snuck and got a piece of paper from her desk and began to write. Ever since she had learned that Asriel couldn't read, Frisk had been teaching him. He was a fast learner, but she hadn't tested if he knew how to read yet.

Quietly, Frisk wrote Asriel a letter, making sure her print was legible and large, so that even in the dark of night, Asriel could read it. At the start of the letter, Frisk wrote simply, using small words and things that would be simple for Asriel to read. Nearing the end, though, some of her true feelings began to come through. Asriel was still asleep on top of Frisk's bed, his hands reaching for the human girl who wasn't there anymore. When Frisk finished the letter, she slipped it into the sleeping monster's coat pocket and headed to take a bath. Most of the warehouse was still asleep, so Frisk made sure to keep quiet as she drew the bath and slipped into the warm water.

Frisk left her hair down after it was dry, and when she returned to her bedroom, Asriel was gone. Frisk figured that he was doing something for Toriel or Alphys, perhaps even one of the skeleton brothers. As she dressed, she noticed the puckered scar of the bullet on her leg. It was white, and it vaguely reminded Frisk of a flower. An ugly, deadly flower. As Frisk pulled on a pair of pants to cover the scar of the old wound, she heard the song Asriel had played for her the day before, quietly played on piano keys. Frisk smiled at the music, knowing exactly where Asriel was.

They spent the day around the warehouse, Frisk itching to leave and go on a job again. Asriel had argued that it probably wasn't a good idea, but he was healed, so there was nothing stopping them. Frisk was re-reading the _Sherlock Holmes_ stories, their mysteries just as captivating as they had been the first time through. Asriel still hadn't read them, but every time he glanced over at Frisk, she could tell that he had read her letter by his expression. She softly smiled into her books every time he snuck a glance, careful to avoid his soft green gaze.

A hard knock came at the sitting room door, and Frisk looked up to see Sans in the doorway, a large smile on his skull. Frisk arched an eyebrow, inviting Sans into the sitting room with her and Asriel. He walked with a bounce in his skeletal step. Frisk closed her book, tapping Asriel on the arm to turn to listen to the short skeleton.

"I've got a job for you two. You start tomorrow," Sans said, crossing his arms proudly. "I know you're just itching to get back on the job, kid, so I found ya somethin'," Sans added, looking pointedly at Frisk. She smiled, resisting the urge to smile.

"What are we going to be doing?" Asriel asked, leaning forward into the conversation.

"You're going to be looking for a murderer," Sans answered.  _A human girl, dead._ "Specifically, one who's targeted members of our little family before," Sans added.  _Asgore._ Frisk swallowed hard, and Asriel reached his hand over to hers. Frisk pulled her hand away, too afraid to seek comfort. "You start tomorrow morning. I'd get some sleep." Sans left the room, and Asriel turned to Frisk.

"Are you okay?" Asriel asked softly, trying to take Frisk's hand again. She moved it away, her skin feeling prickly, like fire dipped needles. Everything that was happening around her, Frisk knew that she was the target. The war that had begun was  _not_ a result of love between Toriel and Asgore. The war was a result of Toriel and the rest of the family adopting Frisk. The war was because of  _her._ Asriel looked at her, concern painted in his green eyes like a portrait. "Frisk? Are you okay?"

Frisk clenched her jaw, still avoiding Asriel's concerned touch. Every heartbeat running through her body was a drum beat she could feel, pounding and pounding until it became nearly unbearable. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down. There was chaos, a hurricane, approaching the family. A storm, and this was the outskirts, the calm before. Frisk wondered if any of the rest of them had any idea what was coming, if any of them were concerned. She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes and turning to Asriel. His hands were hovering over her, waiting for permission to comfort her.

"I need to show you something," Frisk said, standing up.

* * *

"An abandoned building?" Asriel asked, his hand near the small of Frisk's back. Not touching her, because she had made it clear that she did not want to be touched, but very close. Asriel's lips ached to take Frisk's fear away, but he was also afraid that he wouldn't know how. He didn't even know what she was so afraid of, much less how to fix it.

"Follow me," Frisk answered, beginning to climb the fire escape. Asriel did, keeping a few steps behind Frisk. Thoughts raced around his mind, most of them concern for Frisk and curiosity about what she was showing him. When the two of them reached the roof, Asriel looked at Frisk. Her hair was down, and even without makeup, she was beautiful against the velveteen sky pierced with stars. Clouds covered them, the moon peeking through like a shy performer. "This is my favorite place in the entire world," Frisk said, spreading her arms in a grand gesture. Asriel raised an eyebrow. "I come up here to think," Frisk added, walking to the edge and standing behind the ledge, her arms out to the city spread below them.

"Frisk, would you please tell me what's going on?" Asriel asked, standing slightly behind her. He was clearly confused, and Frisk sighed, sitting on the ledge. Her legs dangled over the edge, and for a moment, Frisk considered kicking off into the boundless edges of infinity. Softly, the terror evident in her shaking hands, Frisk patted a spot next to her on the ledge. Asriel sat down next to her, carefully balancing on the edge.

"There's a war going on, Asriel," Frisk said into the Manhattan night. "Between your mom and dad, really. But I'm in the middle. I'm the human in the middle of this war going on, and it's honestly my fault, and I am the intended casualty." Asriel reached out for Frisk's hand, setting his on top of hers. This time, Frisk didn't stop him. "I have a target painted on my chest. I'm a danger to you, and the skeleton brothers, and Toriel, and Alphys, and even the police force. An innocent girl was murdered just because she was human and she looked like me." Asriel gasped, but Frisk kept talking. "I am going to be the one to die in all of this, I can feel it."

"Frisk..." Asriel started, squeezing her hand, but Frisk cut him off.

"There's nothing we can do to stop it," Frisk said, staring out into the bustling city that she loved. Amongst the streets full of monsters and humans, Frisk felt both at home and completely, utterly alone. "And I'm not ready to die, Asriel."

"You're not going to die. We'll figure something out," Asriel started, but Frisk looked at him, a pleading look in her eyes. The way she looked at him, Asriel realized two things. One, he was totally and completely in love with this human girl. Two, he needed to save her no matter what.

"I have a target on my chest. And from what I can gather, your father never misses." Asriel and Frisk sat on the edge of the world, hand in hand, staring out at New York City. Each of their minds was racing, full of thoughts and plans, fear lacing every single one. Behind them, a storm was approaching. This time, they both felt it on their skin.


	15. New York City, 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months into the search for Asgore.

"All of this is bullshit!" Undyne cried, tossing another case file onto the table in front of her. Undyne, Frisk, and Asriel were all in the kitchen of the warehouse, discussing the murders. Undyne held a cold beer, while Asriel and Frisk sipped hot tea. "I've lost count of the murders!"

"There have been six," Frisk said tonelessly. Every human who was killed instead of her was like a burn across her skin. "Six innocents."

"Do we honestly know it's my father?" Asriel asked, his soft hands wrapped tightly around his warm mug of tea. Undyne and Frisk both glared knives at Asriel, who shrugged.

"He's the one who shot Frisk. I'm pretty damn sure he's the one who shot you. And he's done shit like this before. It's definitely Asgore Dreemurr. We just need evidence." Undyne finished her beer, slamming the empty bottle on the table. "I'm going home. Give up the search, you two. It isn't doing any of us any good." Undyne stood and left, leaving Frisk and Asriel alone at the kitchen table.

"She's..intense," Asriel said, looking at Frisk. Her face was set, not a trace of her old smile on it. Frisk looked worn, tired out and lost. Frisk just nodded, taking an absentminded drink of her tea. "So are we going to give up?"

"Undyne's right. We haven't found anything. We might as well take a break," Frisk said, the exhaustion and strain clear in her alto voice. Asriel sighed, resting his head in his arms. "Just for a few days. Maybe we'll find some leads in the next case." Asriel nodded into his arms, and Frisk wondered if he was crying. After a few minutes of silence, Frisk decided that he wasn't, he was just quiet. She stood, setting her empty mug in the sink. "I'm headed to bed," Frisk said, walking to her room. She slept restlessly, her dreams pierced with nightmares and terror. At some point in the night, Frisk thought she heard Asriel playing the piano, but she couldn't tell.

The next day, everyone seemed to have a job except Alphys. Frisk was out shopping, Asriel was out with his mother running some errand, and Sans and Papyrus were collecting a debt. Alphys was alone in the warehouse when the attack began. Loud footsteps thundered on the floorboards above the lab, scaring Alphys half to death. She raced upstairs to see what the noise was, getting nearly to the front door before the men caught up to her. They were monsters, huge monstrosities that didn't seem a match at all for Alphys. Before she could even react, they had beaten her to the ground, a small trickle of blood creeping from her nose. The large monsters left Alphys on the floor in front of the door, moving on to ransack the warehouse for Frisk.

Frisk came home about ten minutes later, the attack in full swing. When she opened the door, she found Alphys on the floor, beaten and bloody. She closed the door quietly, instantly on alert. Frisk could tell there were enemies in the house, and she dropped into a crouch next to Alphys, dropping her bag from the clothing store by the door.

"What happened, Alphys?" Frisk whispered, helping the small monster sit up. She had a black eye and a bloody nose, and Frisk worried that it may have broken in the fight. Alphys' small beady eyes met Frisk's, terror running through them.

"A-Asgore," Alphys choked out. Frisk steeled herself, nodding at Alphys.

"Okay. I'm going to get one of your smoke bombs from your lab. I'll bring it back to you, okay?" Alphys nodded. "Don't worry. I'll take care of this." Alphys smiled weakly, and Frisk stood, quietly making her way to the lab downstairs. Alphys watched her go carefully, worry coursing through her small veins. Frisk slipped down into the lab, which had already been thrown apart and broken, and found exactly what she was looking for. She grabbed one and zipped back up the stairs, carefully getting back to Alphys before any of the monsters knew that she was even home. Quietly, Frisk handed the smoke bomb to Alphys, knowing it would knock out any monsters within its small range. The two nodded at each other, and Frisk started to make a large amount of noise in the hallway.

"I'm home!" she cried, and two monsters came out of the kitchen and sitting room, respectively. Frisk smiled sweetly at them, cocking her head to one side. A deep bass voice stopped them before they could reach her.

"Frisk. So good to hear your voice," Asgore said, walking out behind the two monsters. He was tall and broad- shouldered, with a large pair of horns. At first glance, he looked very friendly, but Frisk remembered the sound of a gunshot and the feeling of a bullet tearing into the flesh of her thigh. "We need to talk."

"In private," Frisk added, crossing her arms. Asgore smiled knowingly.

"You are quite the reasonable young human. I'll allow it. Go ahead and go, you two," Asgore said, motioning to the monsters flanking him. The monsters nodded and stepped carefully around Frisk, heading to the hallway, where Alphys was waiting for them. Frisk led Asgore into the kitchen, where they would both be out of range of the smoke bomb. "Sorry about the mess. We must do what has to be done," Asgore said, his deep molasses voice resonating in Frisk's chest. "So how have you been in the recent years?"

"All things considered, rather good," Frisk said, motioning to a seat. Asgore took it gratefully, settling his large frame into the kitchen chair. "Could I offer you some tea?" Frisk asked, setting the kettle on the stove. Asgore smiled widely.

"Golden Flower, if you have it." Frisk nodded, pulling it out of the cupboard and putting a tea bag into one of the guest mugs. They continued to make small talk as the tea boiled, and then when Asgore had finished drinking his tea, Frisk cracked her knuckles. Her mug was still half- full, steam still drifting lazily up from the hot tea.

"Let's get down to business," Frisk said, looking stonily at Asgore.

* * *

"My child, are you home?" Toriel called, letting Asriel in behind her. Sans and Papyrus were not far behind, a large wad of cash in Sans' suit pocket. Alphys and Frisk sat in the sitting room, Frisk sipping a mug of Golden Flower tea and reading a  _Sherlock Holmes_ novel.

"Hey, kiddo, what happened?" Sans called, noting the mess the warehouse was in. "Where are you, Frisk?"

"In the sitting room," she answered. "I'd avoid the kitchen if I were you." Toriel's heels clicked to the kitchen, and a sharp gasp filled the warehouse.

"Frisk! What the hell happened here?" Toriel cried, and the rest of the monsters in the warehouse walked behind her, looking in on the kitchen. The two monsters that had been with Asgore were tied up and gagged, their heads still rolling from the smoke bomb. Asgore was tied up in a chair, too, large bruises and cuts across both sides of his face. He was gagged and unconcious, a few trickles of blood running down his cheeks. Asriel gasped at the sight of his father.

"Frisk? What happened?" Asriel asked soflty, turning back to her. There was evident confusion and fear on his soft face, and Frisk felt a small pang of regret in her chest.

"They attacked Alphys. I couldn't let it go. We ought to tell Undyne that there will be no more murders, by the way," Frisk responded, a strange calm in her voice. She gripped the novel she was reading tightly, trying to hide her shaking hands. The pained look in Asriel's eyes made her want to cry. "I'll go tell her now," Frisk said, standing and moving out of Asriel's line of sight. "I'll let you do what you wish with them. None of them are hurt badly."

Frisk slipped out of the warehouse and walked down to Undyne's house, rapping loudly on the door. Undyne opened the door, her hair a frizzy mess. There were heavy, dark bags under her black eyes, and she looked exhausted. When Undyne saw Frisk, she straightened, but the exhaustion wasn't gone from her face.

"There will be no more murders of humans," Frisk said calmly. Undyne looked at Frisk in confusion, but Frisk held up a hand. "I did some sweet talking. You won't have to worry about a seventh soul being taken. It's all taken care of," Frisk answered.

"Do you want to come in?" Undyne's voice was rough, like she was sick or drunk. She coughed into her elbow, and Frisk decided that she was more sick than drunk, although her breath did have the distinct odor of booze. "I'm a bit of a mess, sorry," she said, coughing again. Frisk walked inside, feeling a trail of heat come off of Undyne's usually cool, wet skin. After Undyne closed the door, she sat down in a large soft chair and cleared her throat. "So, sweet talking?"

"Let's just say I ran into Asgore Dreemurr and leave it at that," Frisk answered, sitting on the edge of a chair opposite Undyne's. Undyne laughed a bit, which turned into a heavy cough. Frisk was reminded of the illness that had nearly killed her when she was fifteen, the one that made her feel like her entire body was falling apart piece by piece. "Undyne, are you doing okay?" Undyne picked up a half- empty beer bottle by her chair and took a swig, which seemed to calm the coughing a bit. Undyne settled into her chair, shivering a bit.

"It's these cases," she answered, looking Frisk dead in the eye. "I'm so stressed, I'm making myself sick. I've taken a few days off, but the police chief can't miss too many days, or she'll be seen as a wimpy bitch. So here I am," Undyne coughed again. "But you said there wouldn't be any more murders?"

"You want to know the truth?" Frisk asked Undyne, who simply nodded. "Off the record, I put the fear of humanity into that monster," Frisk said, staring at Undyne and rubbing her hands together. "He won't be doing anything else for a while."

"Good job, Frisk. I always knew you were one badass kid," Undyne said. Frisk smiled.

"I ought to head back. I just thought I'd let you know that whole deal is over with," Frisk said, getting up and walking out of Undyne's house. The busy streets of Manhattan seemed safer now, and for the first time in months, Frisk breathed freely.

* * *

Asriel and Frisk were back to scouting, but usually on their own. It wasn't hard to scout, and they often didn't need partners to look for danger. Frisk was walking downtown one day, about a week after the Asgore incident, doing her weekly scouting. It was late afternoon, nearly twilight, and she was walking back in the general direction of the warehouse, taking her time.

"Hey, pretty lady," a gruff voice said behind her. Frisk ignored the boy, who seemed to be a bit older than her, continuing to walk. Another boy came up on her other side, close enough to touch her. They were both human, and they smelled of lust and body odor. Frisk fought the urge to gag.

"Hey, lady, give us the time of day," the second boy called. He was too close to her for comfort, and Frisk considered slinging some choice words in their direction, but she knew that it was unladylike and that Sans would have her hide if she put a bad name on the family.

"Hey." A third boy grabbed her braid, stopping Frisk in her tracks. One of them held out a bouquet of flowers for her, roses the color of salmon. "Please accept our gift, madam," the third boy added, his eyes full of false sincerity. Frisk smiled, making to grab the roses from their hands. The boy holding them grabbed her wrist. His hands were sweaty and thick, like sausage.

"Don't make a sound," he said, tugging her into an alleyway. Within seconds, Frisk was held back-to-front against one of the boys, his arm locked around her throat. The other two boys were circling closer, like a small pack of wolves. Their eyes were those of predators, but Frisk wasn't afraid. When the boys were inches from her, Frisk spun, elbowiing the boy holding her in the sternum, making him release her to catch his breath.

Frisk kicked one of the boys in the chest, then turned to the other and punched him square across the jaw. He was stunned, but he came at her again, which she quickly stopped with a swift knee to the tender spot between the boy's legs. The first boy came at her, still holding the roses. Frisk pulled them from his hand with her left hand, punching him swiftly in the chin with her right. His head snapped up swiftly, knocking him unconcious. The third boy tucked his head down and meekly ran from her. Frisk smiled, walking out of the alley and back to the warehouse.

"I brought flowers!" Frisk called into the house, walking to the kitchen to put them in a vase. Toriel stood at the sink, washing her hands before making dinner. As Frisk pulled down a vase, Toriel looked at the flowers and smiled knowingly.

"Are those from Asriel?" Toriel asked, moving over so Frisk could put some water in the vase.

"No, why?" Frisk asked, placing the flowers inside of the clear glass vase and setting them as a centerpiece for the table.

"Salmon roses are for desire," Toriel answered simply.

* * *

A few days after the roses had died, Asriel and Frisk were home alone with Alphys, having no jobs to attend to that day. Around noon, the door burst open, Sans dragging a half- concious Papyrus behind him. Frisk bolted upwards, carrying the tall skeleton down to the lab. By now, they had replaced the mattress downstairs, giving Asriel his own bed in the sitting room. Frisk laid Papyrus on the bed, noting the large knife sticking out from a few of his ribs. Sans was sweating from effort and worry, his whole body shaking so hard it clattered.

"What happened?" Frisk asked as Alphys pulled the knife from Papyrus' bones and began to treat the wounds. Sans looked up at Frisk, fear clear in his eye sockets. He couldn't even speak, he just turned and headed back up the stairs. Frisk knew that he was headed to Grillby's. Frisk turned back to Papyrus, taking his cool, bony hand in her own. "Papyrus, it's going to be okay," Frisk said, but something in her didn't believe it. There were large breaks in his ribcage, and something about Papyrus seemed like it was flickering, leaving the world.

Frisk tried to use her magic, the healing magic that had brought Asriel back from the edge of death, but it didn't seem to work. Nothing would work, and Frisk felt herself becoming more and more scared with each failed attempt. Finally, Alphys put her claw on Frisk's shoulder.

"Go upstairs, Frisk," Alphys said, pushing her away from the tall skeleton. He looked small and innocent in that bed, like he could be dead at any moment. Frisk couldn't feel herself breathing. It was clearly an accident from the war, the stupid war that was completely her fault. Asriel led Frisk away from the lab, knowing that she didn't need words. When they got back upstairs, Asriel played his song for her, but it didn't make Frisk feel any better. She paced in the sitting room, wearing a track in the carpet.

It was well past midnight when Sans returned. Papyrus was healing, slowly, and Alphys had said he would make a full recovery as long as he stayed in bed until he was completely healed. Sans, of course, did not know this. He strode with heavy footsteps to Frisk, his eye glowing blue with alcohol. Frisk could smell the alcohol seeping from his bones, as if Sans had drowned in the amber whiskey. Frisk felt Sans' magic grip her, and she was suddenly being pushed up against a wall. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed, and she could barely breathe.

"This is your fault! All of this! Papyrus, Asriel getting shot, this goddamned war we're in! It's all your fault, Frisk! My brother is dying, all because you had to be some idiotic human who couldn't do what she was told!" Sans paused, his anger clouding his words for just a moment. "I was right about you from the beginning. I knew that if we helped you, we'd all have a bad time. Well look at us now, having the worst time of our lives. Hell, I killed my own father and that hurt less than this shit. It's a beautiful day outside. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and on days like this, kids like you should be burning in hell. You shouldn't be here, Frisk. You shouldn't be in New York City. For fuck's sake, Frisk, you shouldn't be alive." Sans let Frisk go, dropping her to the ground. Anger spewed from his bones, but he said nothing else, as if he were waiting for a response.

"You're right," Frisk said quietly, standing up shakily and walking out of the warehouse. Sans shouted after her, his voice loud with whiskey and terror for his brother's life.

"Don't come back unless you're in a body bag, you ungrateful bitch!" Frisk's mind was blank, void of her own thoughts.  _Sans is right. I shouldn't be alive. All of this is my fault. I caused all of this. There wouldn't be a war if I weren't here. I ought to end this. I'm going to end this. It began with me, I can end it. I'm going to end it._ Without even thinking where she was going, Frisk found herself at the fire escape, staring up at the tall building. She began to climb, her mind still louder than the rush of Manhattan.  _This war is all because of me. If I started it, I can end it. It's that simple. I can end it, and then no one will be in danger over me anymore,_ Frisk thought. She reached the top of the roof, and climbed up onto the edge.

Frisk's hair was down, and the cold New York wind whipped it around her face like tendrils. The feeling of infinity wrapped around Frisk, the only solid thing the ledge of the roof below her feet. Every star shining down on Frisk felt like it was watching her with quiet fascination. The night was cold and dark, and Frisk's silhouette could barely be seen against the muggy stars of the city. Somehow, even though it was freezing, Frisk was warm.  _This is your fault_ , Sans' voice said in her mind. Frisk swallowed, another gust of the cold Manhattan wind pushing her forward.  _I have to do this,_ she thought.

Carefully, Frisk stepped forward. She closed her eyes, the image of the city spread out like an endless maze the last image burned into her mind. Frisk's toes played with the edge of the ledge she stood on. Frisk took a final deep breath, breathing in the remnants of the city she loved. With a single step, Frisk fell into the velvet night.


	16. New York City, 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same night.

A strong hand caught Frisk's wrist, and the shock jarred Frisk out of her reverie. Her lungs sucked for air, her body dangling from the edge of the roof she had jumped from only moments ago. Strong wind pushed Frisk's hanging body, and Frisk looked up to see Asriel. His hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist, and concern was brimming in his bright green eyes.

"Frisk?" Asriel asked, the concern dripping from his voice real and painful. Frisk couldn't answer, guilt budding in her throat like a growing plant. It hurt to swallow, everything hurt, but Asriel tugged her up from the side of the roof until she stood next to him. Frisk was shaking, suddenly frozen in the cold New York City night. Asriel hugged her tightly, his strong, gentle arms wrapping her tightly into himself. They stood like that for a few minutes, Asriel's chin just resting on Frisk's head, her shaking body sucking the warmth from his.

After a few minutes, Asriel walked Frisk back down the fire escape, carrying her shaking body instead of letting her walk. Frisk clung to him, her eyes brimming with tears that were a mix of anger, fear, and sadness. Sans' words were still flying through her mind, bombarding her like bullets. Frisk's eyes lingered on the building in the distance as Asriel walked them back to the warehouse, her body scooped into his arms giving her the perfect view. When Asriel realized this, he set her feet on the ground and helped her walk, still holding her tightly.

Somehow, Frisk knew she should have fallen. Part of her felt alive again in Asriel's arms, but it was a small part, and the rest of her knew that her infinite maze of Manhattan should have been the last thing she saw. _There should be a Frisk- shaped stain on the concrete_ , she thought. Asriel let Frisk walk as slowly as she needed, keeping her carefully turned from the building that would have been her demise had he not been there to catch her.

After what felt like hours of walking, Asriel and Frisk reached the warehouse door. Frisk tried to pull away from Asriel, his tight grip both life- giving and suffocating. Asriel stopped, pulling Frisk into a tighter hug than before. He picked her up, her body suddenly very small and vulnerable in his arms. Frisk took a shaky breath before speaking, her voice still seeming buried beneath the layers of guilt and sadness.

"You can let me go now," Frisk choked out, fighting weakly against Asriel's arms. He held her tightly, a tear rolling down his white- furred cheek. All within a singular night, Frisk had gone from the strongest person Asriel knew to a weak mess who didn't seem to know up from down. She was lost in her own body, forgotten in her own skin, a stranger to the world she belonged in. Asriel could see the determination in Frisk's eyes, he had always been able to. Now, he recognized that her determination had become the will to die instead of the will to live. "I said you can let me go!" Frisk cried, fighting against Asriel with all the strength she had left. Sans' magic had drained her, though, and she was weak and sad in Asriel's arms.

"Never," Asriel said, kissing Frisk lightly on the forehead. "You might do something stupid."

Asriel carried Frisk to her bed, helping her out of her suit and into a nightgown. When she got too undressed, Asriel turned so that Frisk could have some privacy. She wore a white nightgown made of cotton, and when she was dressed, Asriel picked her up and laid her in the bed, where she laid motionless, her face locked in a position that broke Asriel's heart.  _The girl he loved didn't believe she deserved to be saved._ Asriel crept to his own room, getting into his pajamas, and walked back to Frisk's room, laying in bed next to her.

Asriel pulled Frisk into him, holding her tightly against his chest. She didn't have nightmares that night, but had a night of respite. Asriel slept peacefully with his arms around her, not letting her go. Frisk didn't move in the night, not closer to Asriel or farther from his sleeping form. Frisk dreamt, but she wouldn't have counted them as anything bad. If Frisk had been able to smile, she would have.

Frisk dreamt of herself falling off the roof, over and over again, each time ending with a last breath.


	17. New York City, 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after Frisk's attempt.

"Frisk?" Asriel asked softly, his gentle hand stroking her arm. She had slept for days after jumping off of the roof, barely awake when her eyes had opened. At first, she had slept peacefully, but nightmares had taken over her mind after the first night, and Frisk's body had spasmed in fear and pain. Even when he wasn't asleep next to her, Asriel was with her, watching with worry. He had stopped sleeping, making sure that she was okay at every moment instead.

Frisk's eyes fluttered open, bleary and smeared with sleep. Her entire body ached, and before she could even move, she felt her stomach growl loudly. Asriel smiled gently, moving his hand from her shoulder to her cheek. Asriel sat in one of the chairs from the kitchen across from Frisk's bed, close enough to save her if she needed rescuing again. Slowly, Frisk moved her hand on top of his, turning her face to kiss his palm. Frisk's body was full of sleep and she could feel every inch aching, wind burn from the Manhattan wind making her skin raw and sore. She wasn't quite sure why she was in her bed instead of on the pavement, but for the moment, she was grateful.

"Let's get you some food," Asriel said, helping Frisk stand. She wobbled on her feet like a young child, and Asriel smiled at her softly. "Take your time. It's okay," Asriel said, helping her walk to the door. Once she had gotten her footing, he laced his fingers through her own and walked with her to the kitchen. Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly in sync. They reached the kitchen hand in hand, and the skeleton brothers sat at the table. Sans was pouring whiskey into his coffee, and just looking at him, Frisk felt sick to her stomach. She fought the urge to lean on Asriel for support, the feeling of infinity suddenly on her skin once again. Asriel squeezed her hand.

"Human! It's good to see you awake!" Papyrus said, standing and wrapping Frisk in a large hug. With one weak arm, Frisk hugged him back. His chest wound was mostly healed, and he planned to stay home for the next few days, but he was up and about. Frisk smiled quietly at the taller skeleton, still avoiding his brother.  _Don't come home unless you're in a body bag._ "Toriel made cinnamon rolls," Papyrus added, sliding a large pan of breakfast rolls towards Frisk. She smiled gratefully, taking a singular roll and sitting by Papyrus. Asriel sat on her other side, putting himself between Sans and Frisk.

"How are you feeling?" Frisk asked Papyrus, hiding her own pain with a large smile and a small bite of cinnamon roll. The food made her feel a little more alive. From the corner of her eye, Frisk saw Sans sipping his alcoholic coffee.  _You shouldn't be alive._

"Quite well, human, thank you for asking. Alphys says I should be back to work in a few days," Papyrus said, a large grin on his skull. Frisk smiled bigger, watching Papyrus' movements. He seemed to be back to normal, which was good. Sans seemed to be drinking more and more, which Frisk knew shouldn't concern her anymore, but it burned her heart. Sans finished his coffee, and took a swig of the amber booze he seemed to constantly be in contact with.  _I was right about you._

The four of them finished their cinnamon rolls in silence, Sans and Frisk avoiding each other like the plague. Frisk's hands shook like leaves, and Asriel held the one he was nearest to tightly. It was clear that no one but Asriel and Frisk knew what had happened the other night, Sans having clearly forgotten it in his drunken stupor, and Papyrus didn't know in the first place.  _You shouldn't be in New York City._

"I'm going out," Sans said, his voice laced with liquor.  _It's a beautiful day outside. Flowers are blooming, birds are singing. On days like this, kids like you should be burning in hell. You shouldn't be alive, Frisk. This is all your fault. All of this. Don't come back unless you're in a body bag. You shouldn't be alive. Don't come back._ Frisk's mind was screaming at her, and she bit her lip, keeping her eyes away from everyone else in the room. Sans had left, and Asriel squeezed her hand, which was mostly ignored by Frisk.

"Human?" Papyrus asked, jarring Frisk from her stupor. She looked up at him, smiling. A bead of red blood formed on her lip, and Frisk absentmindedly licked it away. It tasted like she was sucking on a penny. "Are you okay?"

"Of course!" Frisk said, overly chipper. Papyrus raised the brow bones of his skull, skepticism clear on his face, but Frisk just smiled bigger until he smiled back. Papyrus stood slowly after a few more minutes and made his way back to his room, probably to sharpen his knives. Just getting up to eat had made Frisk nearly exhausted, and Asriel could see it.

"Come on, Frisk," Asriel said, pulling her slowly back to bed. Frisk didn't fight him, her mind still burning with the memories of Sans, the memories of falling through the velvet New York Night. The cold air had felt so good on her skin, so right.  _You shouldn't be alive._ Sans was right.

* * *

Frisk slept on and off for the rest of the day, Asriel next to her the entire time. When Frisk woke, fully rested, it was night, and Asriel had nodded off in his chair, his chin resting on his chest. Frisk smiled softly at the sleeping monster, a trail of warmth left behind her ear where he had brushed her hair out of the way as she slept. Frisk sat up, her finger tracing exactly where Asriel's had only moments before he had fallen asleep. The large door of the warehouse creaked open, and Frisk heard it slam shut underneath the stumble of foosteps.  _Sans._

Frisk stood, anger suddenly bubbling beneath her skin. Sans' bumbling footsteps were taking him to the kitchen, likely to get more whiskey. Carefully, so she wouldn't wake Asriel, Frisk stepped out of her room and followed Sans into the kitchen.  _You shouldn't be alive._ Frisk set her jaw and followed him into the dim light of the kitchen, where the short skeleton was going through cupboards, searching for the whiskey. When he couldn't find any, he slammed one of the cupboard doors shut in frustration.

"Sans," Frisk said, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her fingernails dug into her skin, but she didn't flinch as Sans turned to her. His eyes were pure black, no blue in sight, but also no pupils to be found. A large grin was painted on the skeleton's skull, and Frisk was reminded of the way he looked at the man who had tried to kidnap her when she was very small. "You need to stop this," she said, her voice level and firm.

"Stop what?" Sans snorted, the bite of alcohol evident in his deep bass voice. When had that voice become less of a source of comfort for Frisk?

"Your drinking. It's a problem, Sans."

"A problem?  _You're_ a problem, kid. Drinking's just a solution." Frisk walked up to Sans, slapping him hard across the face. A stunned expression settled into his skull. "Frisk?"

"Stop with the alcohol."

"What's so wrong with it? I'm not hurting anyone," Sans answered, shrugging. His pupils were coming back a bit, but Frisk set her jaw and kept trying.

"Not hurting anyone? Papyrus was stabbed, Sans. Don't you care?" A look of realization came over Sans' face, and he swallowed thickly. Frisk continued. "Do you know what it's like to stand on a rooftop, Sans? Do you know what it's like to jump off of a rooftop? To feel the universe around you?" Sans' eyes widened, but Frisk wasn't done. "You're drinking isn't helping anyone. It's hurting you, and it's hurting your brother, and it's hurting the rest of us. Get your shit together, Sans. You've been drinking like this since I was sixteen, and it needs to stop. I'm done dealing with your whiskey, I'm done with the constant trips to Grillby's, and I'm done dealing with you."

"Frisk..." Sans started, but the human girl just glared at him.

"I'm sick of it, Sans. Sober up." Frisk turned on her heel, knowing that in his drunken state, he wouldn't remember most of what she said in the morning. Frisk did know that he would remember to sober up, though, because it was the last thing she said to him, and that was usually how Sans' brain worked.

Frisk returned to her room, where Asriel had moved to the bed. Frisk smiled softly at his sleeping form, laying down next to him. Asriel was giving off warmth, and Frisk scooted into him just a bit. Asriel put an arm around her, protection from her nightmares. Frisk closed her eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

"Frisk? Frisk?" Asriel's voice was far away, and Frisk walked down the hallway into the sitting room. Asriel sat at the piano, his gun in his hands. The warehouse was completely empty, the silence buzzing around Frisk like an oncoming storm. When Asriel laid eyes on Frisk, he smiled sadly, his green eyes full of pain. Frisk walked towards him, noticing his shaking hands and fear written across his face. Frisk arched an eyebrow, fear and confusion pumping through her veins.

"Asriel? What's going on?" Frisk asked, walking closer to him. Asriel's hands shook harder, and he swallowed thickly.

"I'm so, so sorry," Asriel said softly, pain and regret dripping from his voice. "Please don't forget me..." Asriel raised the gun to his head, pressing the barrel into his temple. The gun's metal moved his fur so that it was sticking up around the barrel. Frisk gasped, feeling a knife slide into her chest.  _Not Asriel._

"Asriel?" Frisk asked, but as his name left her lips, he pulled the trigger. The sound echoed against Frisk, drumming against her skin like a New York rainstorm. There was no blood, only a scattering of dust across the piano. The gun clattered to the floor next to the piano bench, aimed at the piano. As Frisk watched, the piano began to play by itself. It played the song that Asriel had played for her while he was trying to teach her the piano.  _His song. No. No. No._ "No!" Frisk cried, falling against the piano bench.

The music continued to play as Frisk sobbed into the leather bench. It held the smell of black licorice in it, which only managed to make Frisk cry harder. A soft knock sounded behind Frisk, and she raised her head, turning back to see Toriel. There was a large knife wound in her stomach, which was spouting crimson blood in tides. Toriel's purple dress was stained with the blood, which ran like a river from her stomach. Frisk's breath caught in her throat.

"It'll be okay, my child," Toriel said, dissolving. A soft pile of dust lay in the doorframe of the sitting room, where Toriel had been only moments ago. Another shaking sob wracked Frisk's body, but she stood and walked over the pile of dust that had been Toriel. No one else was in the warehouse, but the door opened, and Undyne stepped in, bullet holes riddling her body. She wore her police uniform, her hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Undyne was already beginning to dissolve, and behind her, Alphys came in, also covered in bullet holes.

"A-Asgore," Undyne choked out as she turned into dust. Alphys let out a choked sob, reaching a small bloodstained hand to the dust of Undyne.

"I loved her," Alphys said, falling forwards. Frisk ran to her, but couldn't make it in time to catch her before she became dust. Frisk felt like she was falling, still on her feet. In the kitchen, there was a small pile of dust stained with whiskey and broken glass.  _Sans._ Frisk ran up to Papyrus' room, banging heavily on the door. Papyrus opened the door, a knife in his hand.

"Papyrus, what's happening? What's going on? What did I do?" Frisk paused, crying for a moment. "This is all my fault, isn't it?" Papyrus smiled at her, a sad expression on his skull.

"It's okay, human. I still believe in you." Papyrus sliced off his head, turning to dust almost instantly. Frisk felt her stomach churning, rioting inside of her body. Everything felt wrong. The knife had clattered to the ground on top of Papyrus, his pile of dust scattered with the blow. In the sitting room, the piano was still playing Asriel's song. Frisk gulped air, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was on top of the building she had jumped from.

The dark Manhattan sky cradled Frisk, her toes dabbling on the edges of the night. The maze of the city spilled before her like an intricate drawing, just below her feet. All Frisk had to do was step forward, and she would be a part of the city for eternity. Frisk closed her eyes, the sound of Asriel's song mixed with gunshots and death pounding in her mind. A soft breeze, pushed her forward, and Frisk smiled as she fell. The dark night held her as she flew through the night.

This time, no one saved Frisk. She crashed through the New York skyline, a single falling star amongst the thousands of bright lights. Her eyes were closed as the cold air rushed through her long loose hair, and for once, Frisk knew what infinity felt like. She flapped her arms as though they were wings, but merely to make her fall from grace shorter. Frisk's body crashed into the pavement, a short shock of pain cascading through every bit of her skin and muscle. Frisk's bones shattered into tiny pieces, and she breathed her last breath, sweet relief coming with empty lungs.

* * *

Frisk woke with a start, gasping to fill her empty lungs. Asriel was still asleep next to her, and her room was completely dark. Sweat rolled down her back, collecting at the nape of her neck and underneath her lip.  _You shouldn't be alive._ Frisk turned over, curling into Asriel's strong frame. He was still there, solid and real and not made of dust. Asriel rolled onto his back, sleepily pulling Frisk's head onto his chest like a pillow. One of his hands wrapped gently into her hair, the other holding her close to him. Frisk could feel his heartbeat in her skin, strong and steady.

The two stayed like that until morning, when Asriel woke before Frisk. He felt her small heartbeat against his, her hand a small fist over one of his ribs. Smiling softly, Asriel placed his hand over hers, letting her body relax back into sleep. Frisk started to wake at his touch, but he rubbed her hand with his thumb gently.

"Shhhh, it's okay," Asriel said, turning to kiss the top of Frisk's head. "I'm never letting go. It's okay."

 

 

 


	18. New York City, 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month later.

"Hey, where are you going?" Asriel asked Frisk, catching her wrist as she walked out of the sitting room. Frisk was wearing a grey pinstripe suit and had her hair in a braid. Frisk giggled, turning so that her hand was in his, their fingers laced together. Asriel was wearing black trousers and a pale green button- down with black suspenders. He looked adorable in it, and Frisk leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Come with me and you'll find out," she said, tugging him forward. Asriel stood up, walking after her and nearly tripping. During the day, Frisk was generally happy, even though there was a war going on and nightmares plagued her sleep. Asriel worried about her, but he didn't dare say that to her face. There were days that Frisk didn't speak, as though the night over a month ago was suddenly the only thing on her mind, but Asriel just held her hand through it until she went back to normal. Usually, she apologized, but Asriel just kissed her softly to silence her.

Frisk pulled Asriel out of the warehouse, down the streets of Manhattan that she knew so well. No gun graced her hip, no weapons were on her body whatsoever. Asriel could remember living on these streets, his entire existence contained in alleyways and behind stores, rummaging through dumpsters and searching for food to get him through the week. Frisk pulled him along, towards the  _Ghost Theatre._  Frisk's eyes scanned the Manhattan skyline, looking up at the blue sky covered with thin clouds.

"So much has happened since we last came," Frisk said, pulling Asriel into line at the theatre. "Mettaton has a body now. I thought it'd be nice to see it."

"Yeah, that will be nice," Asriel said, squeezing Frisk's hand. "Do you remember meeting here?" Asriel's nose brushed Frisk's ear as he talked to her, his voice gentle and quiet as always.

"How could I forget?" Frisk answered, turning her head and kissing Asriel softly. Since the jump, Frisk had been more gentle, a little less solid. Sometimes, it felt like Asriel was losing his grip on her, and if he didn't hold tight enough, she'd slip through his fingers and be gone forever. Frisk kissed Asriel like he was the only reason she was alive, which was true. There were moments when she didn't believe she should have been saved, when the chaos of the war they belonged in seemed as infinite as the space she fell through that night.

"Uhm, hi, Frisk," Napstablook said, and Frisk pulled away from Asriel, laughing quietly. "Are you two here to see the show?"

"That we are, kind sir," Asriel answered, placing his hand on Frisk's waist. Frisk blushed, heat rising to her neck and cheeks. Frisk gave Napstablook money for the tickets, smiling widely.

"Would you like to stay for tea afterwards?" Napstablook asked, his blue body floating a few inches above the ground in the ticket booth. Frisk's smile brightened.

"I would love that, Napstablook," Frisk said, walking into the theatre with Asriel at her side. The two walked into the theatre, and Frisk quieted down in the darkness. Asriel pulled her closer to him, his soft warmth comforting in the dark. The stage was dimly lit, and for a moment, Frisk could feel the dress brushing her legs, the bullets flying through the air into Asriel when they were intended for her. Frisk's chest twisted, and she stopped for a moment, trying to push the sound of gunshots from her mind.

"Frisk? Are you okay?" Asriel asked, his voice quiet. Frisk swallowed thickly, the knot in her chest dissolving with the touch of Asriel's lips on her temple. She nodded, starting to walk again. Asriel followed her, sitting next to her. They were in about the same seats they had been in when they met, and Asriel took Frisk's hand as the lights dimmed further. Frisk could smell his faint scent of licorice in the dark theatre, and it calmed her heart as Mettaton came onstage.

"Hello, darlings! Welcome to this afternoon's show! I'm Mettaton, and accompaning me is my lovely cousin Napstablook!" Mettaton motioned with a metal arm to Napstablook, who had floated to the piano. "For those of you who haven't seen a show here recently, you can see I have a new body. Thanks to a very good friend of mine, I'm no longer a formeless ghost! So, without further ado, let the show begin!" Mettaton took the microphone in his metallic hand, and frisk watched his body move. It was almost like a human's, very well put together. No wonder Alphys had been so stressed planning it, the design and execution were beautiful.

Mettaton sang a few familiar songs, and while he did, Frisk watched his body. He had sculpted metal hair in a stylish fashion, and his face was sharp- jawed and strong. His mouth and face moved as though it had muscle underneath it. Frisk was amazed. Asriel slid his eyes over to watch her amazement. She was beautiful in her child-like wonder, and Asriel could see the thought process as she took apart every mechanism Mettaton was made of. Frisk's mind was a modern- day marvel in Asriel's eyes. It was one of the most beautiful things about her. Although he hadn't admitted it to her, Asriel was falling in love with Frisk, harder and harder each day.

As a show closer, Mettaton began to sing the song that he had sung for the first time Asriel and Frisk had met. Frisk smiled and squeezed Asriel's hand as Mettaton looked at the two of them, a smile on his metal face. Somehow, his mechanical eyes displayed emotion as he sang the song to the two of them. Asriel squeezed Frisk's hand back, and Frisk realized something that she didn't dare admit to Asriel.  _She was falling for him, harder and harder each day._

"Darling!" Mettaton shouted as he came off stage, hugging Frisk tightly. He was much stronger with his body, and Frisk coughed to tell him to let go. "Sorry, sorry, lovely, I'm just getting used to my new strength!" Mettaton turned to Asriel, taking his hand grandly and kissing the back of it. "And who's this handsome companion?"

"This is Asriel, Mettaton. The last time we were here, he saved my life," Frisk answered. Mettaton smiled widely, gesturing grandly at the theatre surrounding them.

"Well, you're always welcome at the  _Ghost_ , beauty! Come, come, let's get some tea!" Mettaton led Frisk and Asriel back to the kitchen, which Frisk had many memories of Napstablook. "Frisk, darling, I never got to thank you for filling in while Alphys made me this lovely form. So thank you from the very bottom of my soul!" Mettaton said, motioning to two chairs. Napstablook floated into one across from Asriel shyly, and Mettaton put the tea kettle onto the stove.

"Oh, it was no big deal," Frisk said, blushing. Asriel rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, a small smile on his face. "I enjoyed doing it."

"Well, I'm glad, beauty. I knew it from the start, you'd be a star!" The tea kettle began to sing, a trill echo in the small kitchen. Mettaton poured the hot water over the tea bags in a pair of fancy cups and handed them to Asriel and Frisk. "Your show was a hit! I'd love to have you back to perform again! Maybe a duet," Mettaton cooed, his large silver eyes looking to Asriel. The goat monster blushed, moving his hands to cover his face. Frisk laughed.

"No, no, Mettaton. It was just to help you and Alphys. Dresses aren't really my style," Frisk added, sipping her tea. A clock on the kitchen wall ticked time away as the four of them made small talk. When Frisk and Asriel had finished their tea, they stood, grateful smiles on their faces. "It was really great to see the two of you," Frisk said, smiling first at Mettaton and then Napstablook.

"Oh! Darling, wait! I have a message for you," Mettaton stood, his silver hand outstretched, as if that could stop Asriel and Frisk from leaving. "It's for Ms. Dreemurr." Mettaton handed Frisk a thick envelope, which was clearly a letter. Frisk tucked it inside her suit jacket, nodding at Mettaton solemnly. She had a feeling she knew who it was from -  _Asgore._  "Thank you, darling. I hope to see you two again, once this whole mess has finished."

"You will, I'm sure," Asriel said, smiling at the robotic ghost. Mettaton returned the smile.

"It was lovely to meet you, young man. Protect this girl, will you?"

"With my life," Asriel answered.

* * *

"Toriel?" Frisk called into the warehouse, pulling her hand gently from Asriel's. "Toriel? I have a letter for you," Frisk called again. A clatter of clicking heels rushed down the stairs, and Toriel came into view, half- ready to go out of the house. She was wearing a sparkly purple dress that showed off her every curve. Toriel looked beautiful, but busy, and when she saw Frisk and Asriel, she straightened her back, smoothing her dress.

"The letter can wait, my children. We have a party to attend," Toriel said, a large smile on her face. "We'll finally be able to end this war, once and for all."

"With a party?" Frisk asked, confusion in her mind. The letter sat heavily in her jacket, like a death sentence. A final warning. The thought of the letter made Frisk's stomach churn.

"Asgore Dreemurr is supposed to be at that party. If we can end this war, if we can stop him, then this whole thing will be over once and for all," Toriel said, suddenly all business. "Frisk, I have a dress for you on your bed. Asriel, the party is black tie. You'll need to change out of what you're wearing."

"Okay," Asriel said, giving Frisk a quick kiss and heading to change. Toriel smiled softly at Frisk, who blushed.

"Is the whole family attending?" Frisk asked, pulling her hair out of her braid before she went to her room to change.

"Of course. I wouldn't dare attend a party without all of you. Undyne is coming, too."

"Wonderful," Frisk said, a hint of disdain in her voice. She hated dresses and parties and acting ladylike. Frisk was a trained gangster, not a young woman who was having her coming out party. Frisk sighed, going into her room to see a black dress laid out on her bed. Frisk unbuttoned her jacket and pulled the letter from it, laying it on her desk. Written in large scrawling letters across the envelope was Toriel's name. Whomever had written it had very pretty writing, but it was clearly male, someone with large hands.

Frisk climbed out of her suit and into the dress, her long brown hair brushing across her lower back. Frisk was thin, made of muscle and strong in her small frame. She had a nice figure, and compared to other humans she had seen, she was a bit curvier than them. The dress Toriel had given Frisk was lacy at the top and bottom, and had a black slip underneath it. Frisk slid it on, feeling the silky fabric soft against her skin. There were small, silk pink roses sewn into the shoulder and parts of the lace near the bottom. As much as she hated dresses, Frisk felt beautiful.

Frisk stepped out of her room, walking barefooted up to Toriel's office. She didn't have any shoes to wear, much less makeup or hair styles. Something told her a braid wouldn't be appropriate for the type of party they were attending. She knocked on the door, and when Toriel opened it, she gasped.

"You look beautiful, my child," Toriel said breathlessly, pulling her into a gentle embrace. For a moment, Frisk could feel the oncoming storm rattling in her bones, and something about the hurricane they were standing in the center of told Frisk that this was a moment she needed to hold onto. Frisk hugged the goat woman back, feeling like she was a daughter for just a moment. "Let's do your makeup and hair, Frisk."

Frisk sat quietly while Toriel put rogue and mascara on her, and a bit of grey eyeshadow to compliment the dark dress Frisk wore. Toriel had purple eyeshadow and light mascara on, but not much else. Either way, she looked beautiful. Frisk tried to memorize her face, the way she spoke, the lilt of her soft voice and the way she hummed while she concentrated on something. Toriel hummed a song Frisk didn't recognize as she wove pink roses into her hair, pulling it back so it was out of Frisk's way, but still down. The song she hummed reminded Frisk of heartache, the way the melody pushed and pulled against Toriel's gentle vocal chords.

When Toriel was done, she handed Frisk a pair of black high heels. Frisk put them on carefully as Toriel found her a mirror to look into. Frisk stood, wobbling with the sudden height the shoes had added. Toriel walked back in, her own heels clicking against the floor of the warehouse. She held up the mirror, and Frisk peered into it, looking at herself. She couldn't hold back a gasp. Somehow, the makeup had made her eyes look deep and mysterious, and the roses in her hair made her look childish yet beautiful. Toriel smiled at her surprise.

"It's almost time to go, my child. Shall we?" Toriel walked behind Frisk out of the office, and Frisk saw Asriel waiting at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he held out his hand for her to take. Frisk took it, smiling. They stood to the side, letting Toriel pass, and Asriel looked deeply into Frisk's eyes. His were green and deep, innocent but completely loving. Asriel smiled at Frisk, and she blushed.

"You are stunning," Asriel whispered, his hands on Frisk's upper arms. Frisk smiled, the blush on her cheeks becoming more pronounced. Asriel leaned in, kissing Frisk on the lips. Her arms moved up to his arms, and she leaned back as Asriel leaned forward.

"When did this happen?" Sans' rough voice asked, and Frisk quickly pulled back from Asriel's kiss. Sans hadn't seen them together since his sobriety, and they must have been quite the sight.

"Nothing's happening," Frisk responded, and Asriel looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"Whoa. Hold on. Something's kind of happening," Asriel said, taking his arms off of Frisk and looking at her.

"Well if that's the case, kindly shoot me, someone," Sans said gruffly.

"Yeah. I don't know what you were doing, Frisk, grabbing me and kissing me like that. I'm a little surprised myself. I have to get somewhere," Asriel said, motioning to the warehouse door. "I'll see you at the party, Sans." Asriel started towards the door, then turned back and jokingly looked at Frisk. "Really, Frisk."

"Dreemurr," Sans called after him.

"Yeah?" Asriel asked, not turning around.

"You're full of shit," Sans said, a grin on his face. Frisk avoided his gaze, a large smile on her face.

"Oh yeah," Asriel said, walking outside to the taxi.

* * *

"What if this party is a trap?" Frisk asked Sans as they walked through the door. The short skeleton shrugged, looking up at the human girl. She really did look pretty in her black dress, with the roses in her hair. She was a beautiful young woman. Sans would never admit it, but if Frisk had to fall in love with anyone, he was glad that she was falling for Asriel. The signs were obvious in the way she moved around him, the way she spoke to and about him, the way she had kissed him in the hallway.

"Then we go with it," Sans answered, taking a glass of champagne from a tray that was walking by. The party was in a large room, which reminded Frisk of ballrooms that she had read about in books. Frisk glared at Sans, who reluctantly handed her the champagne. Frisk put it back on another tray that was walking by, smiling kindly at the monster waiter. He smiled back, eyeing her like she was a prize to be won. Asriel walked up behind her, placing his hand strongly on the small of her back. The waiter's eyes widened, and he put his head down as he walked away.

The room was bustling with monsters and a few humans, all of them dressed to the nines and dancing to the soft music playing. Sans nodded at Frisk and walked over to Toriel, asking for a dance. When Toriel looked back at Asriel and Frisk, they both nodded and smiled, and Toriel went giggling hand- in- hand with Sans. Frisk knew that she was more excited to dance with anyone than to dance with Sans, but as they watched the two of them on the dance floor, Frisk decided that Sans was a good dancer. Asriel played his fingers up Frisk's spine like a living piano, resting on the nape of her neck.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice happy and bright.

"Of course, kind sir," Frisk answered, and Asriel swept her onto the dance floor. Frisk and Asriel danced past Sans and Toriel, who were dancing rather awkwardly because of the height difference. Sans told Toriel a joke, and she laughed loudly, her voice carrying over the music of the room to Frisk's ears. "You know, I've never heard Toriel laugh until now," Frisk told Asriel.

"When I was little, she laughed all the time. Mom always cracked herself up telling my Dad jokes. They were terrible, but Chara always thought they were funny. Even when we were sick, she would laugh until she couldn't breathe at my mom's silly jokes," Asriel answered, swaying with Frisk in his arms.

"What was Chara like?" Frisk asked, leaning into Asriel's chest and listening to his heartbeat. Toriel had told her Asriel's story when she was younger, but Toriel never talked about Chara. Asriel smiled, a hint of sadness in his large green eyes.

"She was hilarious. She looked a lot like you, except her eyes were red. That was when she was sick, though. Chara had this great scary face - she could scare me better than any monster could. When she got sick... That's when things got scary. But up until the end, she was my sister. I loved her. When she died, it was really hard on my dad. He got really weird after she died, almost like he had died too. I was so little I don't remember much after that. I remember being on the streets, mostly," Asriel answered, nearly stopping swaying. His heartbeat sounded like a steady drum.

"What's being on the streets like?" Frisk asked, looking up through her lashes into Asriel's face.

"Cold. Lonely. I didn't like it." Asriel paused, a distant look in his grassy eyes. "I like being with you, though."

"I love being with you," Frisk countered, a michevious smile on her face.

"I love you," Asriel said before he could stop himself. His face turned pink, and Asriel moved his hands from around Frisk to cover his blush.

"I love you, too," Frisk answered softly, leaning up and kissing his hands. Asriel giggled like a little kid, moving his hands and kissing Frisk playfully.

Gunshots blasted through the room, and Frisk's eyes jumped open, every part of her on alert.  _It_ was  _a trap._ Frisk's eyes scanned the room, landing on Undyne and Alphys, who were laughing together in a corner of the room, both with glasses half full of champagne. Next, her eyes fell on Papyrus, who was talking excitedly with Gerson and Tem on another side of the room. Asriel was next to her, perfectly okay. Lastly, Frisk's eyes fell on Sans and Toriel.

Toriel was doubled over, leaning heavily on Sans. His suit was stained red, and concerned look on his skeletal face. From the corner of her eye, Frisk could see Asgore slipping away, a gun hanging heavy in his large hand. Before she could stop it, a scream ripped from her throat as she raced towards the monster who had raised her as her own.

"No!"


	19. New York City, 1925

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same night.

"What happened? Who did this?" Undyne cried, following Asriel and Sans carrying Toriel down to Alphys' lab and the mattress down there. Frisk's face was set in stone.

"Asgore. Asgore Dreemurr," Frisk answered, her voice a cold knife.  _The letter._ Without another word, Frisk turned, racing up the stairs to her room. Her black dress swished around her calves, tickling her with lace. Inside her chest felt cold and numb, like a block of ice. The noise of Manhattan outside the warehouse, usually a comfort, seemed out of place. Asriel tried to grab her wrist as she passed, but Frisk wrenched her hand from his grip and ran to her room, grabbing the letter. Toriel's name seemed like a mockery now.

Frisk ripped the letter open, her hands shaking. Beneath her, Frisk's worst nightmares were coming true - the death of a hero, of the woman who had raised her as her own, who had saved her from the streets, who had waited for years upon years just to know if her son was alive, a woman who was nothing but wonderful and amazing. The crimson color of blood staining Toriel's dress was staining Frisk's memories of her, cutting through all of them to the very beginning.

_Dearest Toriel,_

_I hope you can forgive me for what I am about to do. And what I have done, in the past. Our son, Asriel, has grown to be so much more than either of us could have ever imagined. He is now caught in the middle of this war, a war started by a young human named Chara. And a young human named Frisk. Although I do love you, I have never understood your love for their species, your need to protect them. I cannot let that continue. Our opposing views have come to a head, and I cannot let this go on any longer._

_We have been at war over the young girl named Frisk for nearly four years. I am growing tired of fighting, of constantly hiding from your skeletons. There was a time when we all worked together, but that time is long forgotten. I have forgiven Chara for infecting our son, for nearly taking him with her. I have not forgiven Frisk for her transgressions. Specifically, from keeping you from me. It may seem like it was lost long ago, but my love for you has not faded, not even after all of these years._

_I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for all that I have done, and all that I will do in the future. You always were one to forgive, always were more gentle than I am. I pray that you can find it in your soul to remember the love we once shared. I am completely in love with you, no matter what comes between us, no matter what I must do. Please do not forget this fact in the coming time, please do not forget my love. Please do not forget me, as I once was, not as I am now. I do not like the man I have become without you, Toriel. I merely hope that I can become what you always believed me to be. My love for you shall live on forever._

_With all my heart,_

_Asgore_

Frisk nearly dropped the letter, her hands shaking with the weight of the paper. He had large handwriting that scrawled across the paper in beautiful curls. Frisk folded it back, standing and rushing back down to the lab. Toriel had a cool cloth pressed to her forehead, and Asriel held her hand tightly, his head resting on the back of his hand. Their white fur intertwined, and concern was painted in every tense muscle of his thin frame.

"The letter, Toriel," Frisk said softly, and Toriel attempted to raise her head. She managed to do so, with much concern from Asriel. Frisk handed it to her, and with a gently shaking, weak hand, Toriel took it from her, wrestling her hand from Asriel's tight grip and reading it. Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook with pain as her eyes scanned the letter. When she was finished reading it, Toriel dropped it, her hands still shaking. Asriel immediately took her hand again, nearly strung with worry.

"Thank you, my child," Toriel said, offering Frisk her other hand. Frisk took it, feeling the woman's heartbeat under her thin skin. Toriel coughed with pain, and Frisk could see that it was her abdomen that had been shot, a through- and- through bullet wound. Asriel looked at Frisk pleadingly, his green eyes full of pain. Toriel's eyes closed, and Alphys shooed the two away from Toriel's failing body.

"Can't you save her?" Asriel asked, panic making his gentle voice shrill. Frisk shrugged, knowing that while she had held Toriel's hand, she had tried. Frisk loved Toriel with everything she was, but somehow, she hadn't been able to heal her. "I just found her again, I can't lose her! Frisk! Can't you do something, anything?"

"I've tried, Asriel! I love her just as much as you do! I can't do anything! I've tried!" Asriel's face was a blurry mess of pain, fear, and anger. Frisk pulled him into a tight embrace as he shook, but he didn't hug her back, simply shook with pain and fear. After a few minutes, Alphys tapped Frisk on the shoulder. Carefully, Frisk disentangled herself from Asriel and turned to Alphys.

"She's fallen down, Frisk. I have a feeling she won't be waking up. We'll move her up to her bedroom, but that's the best I can do at this point," Alphys said, sadness staining her voice. Frisk's face hardened, and she nodded at Alphys, walking over to Sans and Papyrus. They were wringing their skeletal hands together, and Sans looked like he was going to vomit.

"This ends tomorrow night. Sans, I need you to get Asgore to meet me on top of a roof, our territory. I have a feeling he knows what building I mean," Frisk said, her voice a dagger in the bloodstained air. Sans nodded, turning on his heel and climbing the stairs, hands shaking. "Papyrus, I need knives." Papyrus nodded, walking away from Frisk. She turned to Undyne, who was standing hand- in- hand with Alphys. Their worry was painted on their faces, as clear as the way they felt about each other.

"Undyne, you can't have any police in the area tomorrow night. Is that clear?" Undyne nodded, squeezing Alphys' hand. Asriel sat next to his mother, watching her still face with concern and pain. "Asriel?" Frisk asked quietly, placing a hand gently on his back. He didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge her presence. "I promise, I will make this right," Frisk said, kissing his head. Asriel just stared at his mother, holding her hand and feeling numb to the core.

* * *

Frisk stood on the roof, the one she had jumped from a little over a month before. The cold Manhattan wind whipped her braid in the wind, dancing behind her like a large tail. A dark shadow moved through the velvet night, and Frisk steadied herself on the concrete of the building. If she was going to die that night, Frisk wanted to die with the map of Manhattan glittering beneath her feet.

"Frisk," Asgore's voice rang through the loud night, and Frisk took his voice in stride. There was no anger in it, nothing to qualify hatred for the dark shadow of a monster standing in front of her. Frisk closed her eyes, the image of Toriel leaning on Sans for support, and hatred boiled under her skin.

"Asgore," Frisk answered, a cold bite of hatred in the two syllables.

"So this is where it ends," he said, walking into the dim moonlight. Asgore was a large monster, towering high over Frisk. She stood her ground, a knife in one hand and a gun in the other.

"It's already over." Frisk stepped into the moonlight as well, facing Asgore head on. "Toriel is dead," Frisk lied, convincingly. Toriel hadn't passed away yet, but she was close. Frisk adjusted her grip on her handgun, and Asgore's expression changed. He changed from stony- faced to hurt in an instant, his heart dropping into his shoes. Before he could say a word, Frisk raised her gun, aiming directly at Asgore's heart. "You shot her." With a flicker of pressure on the trigger, the gunshot exploded into the New York night.

Frisk's hand slipped as the bullet escaped from it, and it landed in Asgore's shoulder. The hurt expression on his face changed to shock, and Asgore stared at her with confusion.

"Frisk?" Asgore asked, surprise painting his face in the dimly lit night. The starlight gave him a sallow glow, and Frisk set her jaw, refusing to answer him. Not seriously injured, but making it hard to get home, Asgore stood in the moonlight, the realization of reality coming over him.  _He had killed the woman he loved._ By the time Asgore could react, Frisk had disappeared into the night.

* * *

Frisk stepped into the warehouse, her hands shaking with the cold and the confrontation. The war was over. Asriel stood in the hallway, his face in his hands.

"Asriel?" Frisk asked, making her voice as gentle as possible. Asriel looked at her, his deep green eyes rimmed red and swollen with tears.

"She's gone, Frisk," Asriel choked out, pulling Frisk into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him back, the pain of the two of them intertwining in the shared silence. After what felt like years of standing there, Asriel pulled away, wiping the tears from his own eyes before quietly wiping Frisk's tears away. "We need to plan the funeral," he said quietly, his voice cracked and broken with pain. Frisk nodded, her chest numb and burning with pain at the same time.  _The war was truly over._

* * *

One week later, Frisk stood in her black dress, the same one that Toriel had given her to wear to the party. Asriel stood next to her, his hand in hers. Sans and Papyrus stood next to each other, handkerchiefs wiping at their wet eyesockets. Undyne and Alphys stood next to each other, hand in hand. Undyne had quit her job at the police station the moment the war was over, saying that she needed a change of scenery. After the funeral, the two were headed to Paris together. Frisk was sad to see them go, but she was glad they had finally decided to admit their feelings for each other.

Frisk and Asriel stepped forward, spreading Toriel's ashes amongst the small bed of flowers they had planted for her behind the warehouse. It was a small patch of golden flowers, which hadn't started to bloom yet, but they would once the spring rolled around. A tear rolled down Frisk's cheek as the wind took Toriel's ashes across the city. In the back of the small funeral stood a large shadowy figure. When it was over, the family headed inside, but the shadowy figure stopped Asriel.

"It's okay, Frisk," Asriel said gently, looking up into the eyes of his father. It had been years since he had seen him face to face, but Asgore didn't say a word. He simply handed his son a letter of his own, gave him a sad smile, and slipped away into the streets of New York.

"What did he want?" Frisk asked as Asriel sat at the piano bench, unfolding the letter. He read it quietly, then handed it to Frisk. Slightly shaking, Frisk took the paper in her hands, staring down at the familiar handwriting. It wasn't long, just a single word scrawled largely across the paper.

_Goodbye._

 

 

 


	20. New York City, 1927

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war.

A few days after Toriel's death in 1925, Asriel sought out Asgore. He found a chair in a room in his father's house, with a single golden flower laying peacefully on top of it. Above the chair hung a noose, expertly tied and left with the remnants of ashes on it. When Frisk had found Asriel, he had the flower in his hands, his face tear- streaked and a broken look in his grass green eyes. The flower, a buttercup that glimmered in the dim light of the room where Asgore hung himself, was pressed into a scrapbook by Frisk. The scrapbook stays in the sitting room, and every once in a while, Asriel looks through it, remembering his life before the war, before the streets.

The scrapbook is filled with photographs. One photograph is of Asriel, Chara, Toriel, and Asgore, all together in a portrait. Each of them hold golden flowers, but Chara uses hers to cover her face. Asriel always smiles at that picture, remembering the moment with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Whenever they look through it, Frisk always takes Asriel's hand, gently letting him know that she's still next to him. There are days when Frisk still doesn't speak, her memories and sadness getting the best of her voice. Asriel always kisses her until she speaks, or at least smiles. Since the night on top of the roof, she hasn't attempted suicide, although the thought crosses her mind occasionally. There are a few photographs with the entirety of the family, as well as more recent ones of Frisk, Asriel and the skeleton brothers.

Undyne and Alphys often send letters home from Paris. They live happily together, and in one photograph they sent, the two are kissing sweetly. It's Frisk's favorite photo of the two of them, and there is a large heart drawn around the photo in the scrapbook. The two own a private investigation office in Paris, where they work on cases the police won't take. Undyne runs the investigation, while Alphys works on the scientific evidence. Many of the letters home involve unsolved cases, which Frisk often sees right through. Even from Manhattan, Frisk has solved many of their cases for them.

Frisk's nightmares are not gone, although a few days after Asgore's death, Frisk woke with a start and told Asriel of a dream she had. In her dream, Asgore and Toriel walked along the Hudson, hand in hand. They had faded into the river's fog, and Frisk had woken with both a pounding heart and a smile on her face. Asriel had woken quickly, afraid she was hurt, but when she told him of the dream, he smiled and nodded.

"That seems like something they would do," he had answered gently, nodding knowingly. Frisk and Asriel moved into Toriel's bedroom after the war, where they shared the large queen sized bed. Papyrus and Sans stayed in the warehouse, but they didn't go out on jobs very often anymore. Mostly, Papyrus cooked for the small family, and Sans tried to teach Asriel and his brother how to play poker. Neither of them had a very good poker face, though, so often at night, Frisk and Sans stayed up to play a few rounds. No alcohol was kept in the warehouse, and save for the occasional drink, Sans stayed away from whiskey. He was much happier for it, as were Papyrus and Frisk.

Temmie and Gerson continue to run their pawn shop, and when they aren't busy, Gerson teaches Tem various things about life in New York City. Although Tem dreams of someday attending college, the pawn shop doesn't make enough money to send her, so Gerson gives her his own version of college. Even though it's not quite what she envisioned, Temmie is happy, and seeing her happy makes Gerson happy. Gerson feels like Tem is his own daughter, and they have a small college fund started for her so that one day she can go. Gerson's will includes giving the pawn shop to Tem, as well as all the money in the bank going to her college fund. Tem doesn't know this, but Gerson knows that when his past wars and age catch up to him, at least she'll be happy. It helps the old monster sleep at night.

Asriel and Frisk turned the family from cruelty and war to a place of helpful, good monsters. They still occasionally threaten the random ragamuffin, but for the most part, they are helpful and kind. Frisk often says that by doing so, they're honoring Toriel. Although none of the others want to admit it, they all know she's completely right. Grillby sends monsters looking for help to Sans, who is always the first smiling skull the monsters see. Frisk is the final decision on whether to help the monster or not, but she usually decides to help them.

On clear nights with nice weather, Asriel and Frisk go on long walks through the city. They take in the sights of the city, and Asriel points out places that he stayed while he was living on the streets. Slowly, Frisk and Asriel teach each other about their childhoods, and Frisk takes Asriel to the alleyway where her parents were killed. The bloodstains are faded, but Frisk can tell Asriel exactly where her parents lay, and exactly what Sans and Papyrus said to her when they found her. The man who killed her parents was never found by the family, but Undyne says that she thinks he was arrested for theft a few years after the murder. Either way, he isn't on the streets anymore.

Asriel and Frisk go every Saturday night to the  _Ghost Theatre_ , where they watch Mettaton and Napstablook's show and help them test their new material. The show is much more interesting with the addition of Mettaton's metal body, and on Frisk and Asriel's yearly anniversaries, Mettaton always serenades them with their song. The theatre makes quite a bit of money, and amongst monsters, Mettaton is their favorite star. Other than Broadway theatres, the  _Ghost Theatre_ is one of New York City's most popular. The cousins even rent it to plays and musicals, so long as Mettaton and Napstablook are allowed to help with them.

Asriel asks Frisk to marry him often. She usually declines, but only because they're too busy to find time for a marriage ceremony. There's a photograph in the scrapbook of Asriel proposing, and next to it is an empty space, which Frisk has saved for a photograph of their wedding. Asriel carries the rings on him at all times, in case Frisk someday decides to say yes. In a way, she already has, they just haven't made it official. On their walks, Asriel talks often of having children, but Frisk knows that with the differences in their species, it'd likely be impossible. Asriel always was a dreamer, though, so Frisk decides to humor him when they speak of it, picking out colors for the children's rooms and the songs they'd be sung to in lullabies.

One night, while walking about, Frisk and Asriel witness the murder of two adult monsters, and the maiming of their young son. The young son looked a lot like Alphys, with yellow scales and spines on his head. Asriel carried him as they rushed him to the hospital, where they were forced to amputate both of his arms. As an orphan, the poor kid didn't have anywhere to go, and knowing how terrible the orphanages were, Asriel begged Frisk to let him stay with them. Reluctantly she agreed, and when the monster was released from the hospital, he came to live in the warehouse. He's four years old when they first adopt him, and Frisk soon learns that his name is Kid, and his parents were simply not very good at naming children. Frisk quickly renamed him Thomas.

"Everyone deserves a real name, Thomas," she told him quietly. Thomas just smiled widely up at her, his large brown eyes full of curiosity and joy. Thomas was still working on getting used to his lack of arms, so he often fell. Asriel and Frisk just helped him up, gently bringing him back to his feet. He was getting better at standing on his own, pushing up from his head and getting his feet back up under him. Sans loved babysitting the kid, and often called him "kid", just like he had with Frisk. Somehow, Thomas wasn't confused, and he called Sans and Papyrus his uncles. Whenever he heard this, Sans just grinned widely and told Thomas that he was exactly right.

She hated to admit it, but Frisk loved being a mom. The scrapbook was filling with pictures of Thomas and Asriel, usually taken by Frisk, but some taken by Sans of the three of them. One of the pictures was the whole family, sitting on the couch, Thomas on Frisk's lap, her hand in Asriel's. Sometimes, at night, when Thomas can't sleep, and Sans has gone to sleep, drunk with happiness instead of alcohol, Frisk sits with Thomas, telling him the stories behind each and every one of the pictures.

Asriel tells Thomas of Chara, which is the only time he ever talks about his sister. Even though he never met either of them, Thomas loves Toriel and Asgore as if they were really his grandparents. Sans and Papyrus rarely talk about Gaster, but sometimes, when they're talking or trying to play poker, Sans brings him up.

"Remember that time with Dad?" he'll ask, and then describe what happened. Usually Papyrus doesn't remember it, but he pretends to, just to hear the story. Sans doesn't like talking much about his dad, but when he does talk about him, he lets the rest of the family into the conversation, too. It isn't often, but Frisk likes hearing the rest of the family talk about their childhood. Asriel has lots of stories about a time when Asgore and Toriel were still in love, before everything went to hell.

* * *

"Mommy, will you tuck me in?" Thomas asked. Frisk smiled, closing her book and standing, walking behind her adopted son. Frisk tucked Thomas in, looking down lovingly at his smiling face. He snuggled into the blankets, Frisk's old worn Flowey doll laying close to him for comfort. "Mommy, when are you an' Daddy gonna get married?" Thomas asked Frisk innocently, staring up with his large brown eyes up at his adoptive mother. Frisk smiled softly, a gleaming, happy look in her eyes.

"Some day, Thomas. Some day," Frisk responded. "Some day very soon." Frisk leaned down, planting a gentle kiss on Thomas' forehead. The small monster smiled, closing his eyes and falling asleep nearly instantly. Frisk stroked the scales on his head sofly, admiring the ring she had finally accepted on her left ring finger. Frisk smiled down at it, admiring the small diamond in its setting.  _Very, very soon,_ she thought, glancing quietly over at Thomas. He slept soundly, his face close to Flowey's.

A soft knock came to the door, and Frisk looked up to see Asriel. His large green eyes were full of love and affection, and a golden band graced his left ring finger.

"How are you doing?" he asked Frisk, looking at her with concern. Frisk stood, smiling, and took his hand. Frisk quietly pulled Asriel to the sitting room, where she opened the scrapbook. There were a thousand pictures inside, each of people and monsters Frisk loved. Each photograph had a memory, each photograph had a story and a part of Frisk's life that was living inside of it.

"I'm doing wonderfully," Frisk answered, her fingertips landing on the empty space where their wedding photo would be. Asriel smiled, turning his head and kissing Frisk softly. She kissed him back, her eyes closing in the dim light of the sitting room. Asriel's soft hands moved, entwining through her long dark hair. In that moment, everything was perfect, and Frisk was so, so glad that the war was over.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Coming soon: An unnamed tale that is basically Steven Universe mixed with Undertale. Comment suggestions if you have any for a title!


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